Morning Clouds
Wayfarer,
Now is no time to sit still
For nothing but a great clamor of joy
And music
Can make any sense
Today! --- Hafiz (from When the Sun Conceived a Man)
I ignored my first impulse as I sat down in the quiet of the dawning morning: to pull The Gift: Poems by Hafiz, The Great Sufi Master off the nearby shelf. Instead, I was mesmerized by the mountains and the sky, the softness of clouds, ‘bellies’ pink in the sun’s first light, contrasting the hard edges of Crestone Peak.
Although I look to the mountains and the coming light each morning, this morning and the two preceding it invited me to pause and look deeply: to notice what is different and to observe what seems the same. Today, clouds brought softness to the fore, muting the hard, jagged edges of the mountain peaks.
As I opened my journal, I felt the softness and allowed it to flow in and through me as I wondered ‘what wants to be said by the muse and me today?’
Several events and observations of the week came to mind. A thought about how ‘misinformation’ is what many have come to label that which doesn’t support whatever narrative they are promoting. I confess that I frequently find helpful information in some of the so-called ‘misinformation’. Especially information dealing with edgy topics such as my health or the existence of UFOs.
Even with my very limited exposure to ‘the news’ I feel pressure from the collective to make choices around my health and well-being that my heart informs me are not in my best interest or even in the best interest of the collective that aims to convince me ‘it’ knows better. Mother Earth is speaking. Listen.
This week I experienced a close encounter with a flash flood in our neighborhood. Thankfully, no major damage to persons or buildings, but morning’s light revealed the level that flowing water, mud and debris reached in the dark of night. A walk around the neighborhood revealed roads with deep ruts and a favorite serene spot by Cottonwood Creek torn asunder. Mother Earth is speaking. Listen.
Next week the installation of a solar array on my roof begins. It’s but one answer to my ongoing question: How do I adapt and align with nature rather than trying to overcome or subvert her?
This week marks the end of my 13th year here in the sacred Sangre de Cristo mountains and the community of Crestone/Baca Grande. I’m blessed with sharing an abundance of fresh produce from a friend’s growing dome. It’s a ‘good basil year’ and pesto making is in full swing!
The week also found me unable to honor a promise made two years ago. I aim to make promises with care and sincerity. Breaking a promise is a matter of integrity. I wonder how this will inform me in making future promises.
Synchronicities have also been present this week. Think of someone/something. Boom, the phone rings, a text or email arrives about ‘that’ from ‘them’. Such events call forth an awareness of resonance and what nourishes life.
As I look back at the week’s unfolding, I wonder: what are the common threads that weave in this week’s experiences? What does the muse wish to share? What sense can be made of the week? Of the world? I pause.
Returning from my morning walk with Zadie Byrd, Hafiz calls again. I respond, pulling the book off the shelf and opening to a ‘random’ page. His poem, When the Sun Conceived a Man, (read it here ) greets me, a reminder that joy and music can make sense Today as they did in days past and will in days to come. Thank you, wise poet.
Sing. Dance. Make music. Make a joyful noise in all you do in the days ahead. And let go of making sense!
Mountain Edges