As I walk, I feel the earth beneath my feet. I allow myself to feel it again and again, one step and then another. I feel it as solid, holding my weight, allowing the next step. In a time when so much I believed was solid is crumbling, the earth beneath my feet is still solid.
I ask myself to allow the breath to fill my body, to soften my belly and allow the breath to reach the place my feet touch the earth. Step, step, step, breathe, step, step, step, breathe. Sometimes my body easily gives way to the breath, other moments it holds back in resistance. I take in the resistance and attempt to meet it with compassion, allowing it to be what it is.
I walk and look for the signs of summer. As I search, I see a shadow across the cove. A male deer with large, thick antlers is unmoving near the water’s edge. I have seen him occasionally as a shadow disappearing into the trees but today he stands for a minute allowing me to take in his presence as if to say “I’m still here.” I watch in awe as he gracefully disappears into the brush.
Now I see the eastern kingbird tending to her young. A few youngsters have climbed out of the nest and are jockeying for position on the highest branch, vying to be first in line for feeding. Mom is wise, of course, and feeds the bird near the bottom. At least one youngster is still in the nest and mom has a busy job going back and forth with her bugs.
I watch the fledgling brown thrashers moving boldly through the mulberry bush, only giving me a tiny glimpse before they follow a parent off to another tree. As I try to take a picture, a ruby-throated hummingbird appears in my lens and I manage one photo before she quickly moves out of sight.
On the fence post I see young bluebirds, chasing each other as much as the bugs they are trying to catch. They too disappear quickly into the branches of the large cottonwood tree. I see a fledgling red-bellied woodpecker inching up a tree, learning to forage bugs on his own. So quickly he has become independent.
I thought when I reached the second half of my life, the world would be more solid. I would have it figured out, know how to navigate, know what was trustworthy and what was temporary. I would be a wise elder, dispensing wisdom and guidance and feeling comfortable in my own skin.
I like the word games where I can get the answer right and feel I still have some level of control. Wordle, quordle, even BRDL - this I can navigate, this I can “win”. Rather it seems this part of life is about learning to give up on the answers and live with the questions. Learning to navigate completely different waters on a foggy day in an unfamiliar boat.
And so I will keep doing it the only way I know how - step, step, step, breathe, step, step, step, breathe. Adding a prayer: please help me open to love, please help me find solidity in my faith, please let me know which path is mine at each turn in the road.
Well friends, I don’t know what to say about the world at large so I’m just going to focus on my small little place in it. After a week inside due to illness and heat, I was very grateful to be out with my camera on some blessedly (and surprisngly!) cool mornings this week.
This summer for me seems to be all about learning to live in the questions, to be with the unknown and to try and make peace with the up and down internal weather. I think I’d prefer to say I’m writing an amazing book or heading off on an adventure, but this year (again) the adventure seems to be internal.
Meanwhile summer is happening. I don’t love the heat, but I can enjoy the wildflowers, dragonflies and birds of summer. Including a few additional photos from the week.
Take good care of your bodies, hearts and minds my friends. These are challenging times. As Frodo said, “I wish it need not have happened in my time.” And as Gandalf said, “So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” (“Lord of the Rings”, J.R.R. Tolkien) I’d just add that decision never seems easy either!
Thank you for reminding us of the words of Rilke.
Have a peaceful, breath-ful week.
Steven
Thank you for the Gandaf quote. Really love it