Beneath the Waves
August 20, 2023
I woke with something buzzing around in the peacefulness of my mind, sending ripples, making waves, disturbing the peace of the morning.
I walked out into the unseasonably cool, still morning hoping the calmness of the lake would calm my mind. Fifty-eight degrees (F) in mid-August feels like the universe kissing my face, reminding me cooler days are on the way.
Arriving at the water’s edge I’m greeted by unexpected waves, both in the water and in the air. One boat, one solitary boat pulling a water skier, buzzing up and down the lake with the radio blaring, sending ripples, making waves, disturbing the peace of the morning.
The buzzing in my mind got louder and all I could hear was the noise on the lake, the noise in my head, the constant whir I had hoped to escape on an otherwise glorious morning. I was irritated and agitated and anything but calm.
Crooooaaaaakkkkk. Crooooaaaaakkkkk. A big bullfrog somewhere in the reeds, completely unaffected by the ripples and the noise. A bullfrog, doing what he does, on a glorious morning when dragonflies are everywhere and bugs are abundant.
As I turned toward the sound of the frog, I saw a dew-covered damselfly sitting on a leaf. The just-rising sun was sparkling through its wings. I watched the damselfly through my camera lens, letting the world narrow to just this one tiny sphere.
A bug landed on the damselfly and he shook it off by spinning his wings, moving faster than my eyes or my camera could see. I looked from up high, I got down low, I moved around to see how the sparkles changed. Sunlight dancing on watery wings.
I saw the bees, dancing in and out of yellow flowers on the aquatic plants I couldn’t name. Bees doing what bees do, gathering pollen, moving from flower to flower. Moving to a pulse unaffected by the boat on the lake.
A felt a whoosh pass my head and looked into the bush to see a blue-gray gnatcatcher posing perfectly. This tiny bird looked big from three feet away and I was delighted to take his portrait as he plucked tiny bugs from the branch.
I noticed that I no longer noticed the ripples. I noticed that I no longer heard the sound. My mind was still even if the lake was not. A goldfinch darted down into the chickory and then a tiny moth landed on a twig.
The peacefulness was here. It had been here all along waiting for me to find the quiet space between the ripples. Waiting for me to settle and drop beneath the noise. Waiting for me to follow the lead of the bullfrog and dance with the rhythm of the morning.
The peacefulness was here. It is always here if I can trust enough to settle. The peacefulness is here when I can let go of trying to make this moment something other than it is, trying to make it the way I think it could be. If I can let go of trying.
Down beneath the waves of life in that place my mind can’t comprehend lies the universal heartbeat. A pulse that joins every being, every creature, every molecule of that which we call “matter”. The heartbeat of the great goddess, the universal mother, reminding us we are forever in her womb and never alone. What a gift it is to hear it.
PS: I always think it’s fascinating when scientists discover something mystics have known for centuries. What’s the term for a scientist-mystic anyway? That’s a cool thing to be: We’ve just learned that the whole universe is humming around us.
The world is so noisy sometimes! Leaf blowers and lawn mowers and motorcycles! Thanks for reminding me that I can still find the stillness amid the chaos.
I think Saint Hildegard of Bingen would qualify as a scientist-mystic. She was a theologian, botanist/herbalist, doctor (and Doctor of the Church), musician, to name just a few of her skills and gifts. To hear her music is to hear that universal music of the spheres you mention.