Growth

Cats and Dogs. The rain is coming down once again, and I am resigning myself to my small modular home this morning. My medications were causing some side effects, so I did not make it to any worship group by 10am, but rather tried to read my new book, then pulled the covers over myself and went back to sleep until 10:30am. I wish I could meditate in the woods as I have been doing the last couple of days. Two days ago time became so elusive as I sat in my small woodland spot surrounded by cedar trees, and when I arrived back at the house, I saw that two hours had gone by while I was in deep stillness among the birds, filtered sunshine, and woodland smells. My back was fine, and I realized that my ability to sit has strengthened with practice. Yesterday I only sat for 45 minutes, as I had an engagement in the village, had spent time with my tarot and journal, and wished to walk to town.

There are other ways for me to lose track of time. I can sit in my room and read scripture, journal, read my book, lie under the covers, or walk down the road with music in my earbuds. Sitting in the woods has been by far the best experience I have had concerning meditation, listening to my soft inner voice, and losing track of time. I think it helps to be completely still, and to only listen to sounds of unscripted and unsultried nature. There are geese, small birds, ravens, the occasional eagle or red tailed hawk, woodpeckers and frogs. The trees and stones have presence, and there is one very large stone crested with pink crystals that sits close to me in my chosen spot. I always return to the same place, and I stare through the tangles of stems and bushes, and track patterns and shapes in the sticks and small branches that cover the forest floor. Sometimes I sit and make small wreathes and circles from the stems that have fallen to the ground. This winter I sat among some melting snow, and have watched mushrooms come and go. This spring there will be ferns that stretch up around me, but mostly the area I sit in lacks extensive green growth, which is what keeps it clear and soft while sitting among the clean cedar stems and tiny cedar boughs.

I have letters to write. A long lost friend sent me a small Christmas present and letter, and told me of her new family. We all grow and change. Sometimes the growth is subtle like the tiny rose stem right in front of my feet that only makes minuscule changes because of its placement in the woods, or the small half alive miniature cedar that I also sit near. Ferns come and go. Leaves come and go from the surrounding bushes. Mushrooms appear and disappear. And yet it is alive. The cedars, the rocks, even the fir stumps that circle me. There is life in the seemingly unchanging world, that is actually in constant transformation. Just like me.

At this point, it seems I am only growing older and trying to enjoy where I have landed. I have quit striving, and am only trying to prevent and avoid decay. I clean and floss my teeth every morning, I walk every day, and stretch when I go to the gym. I try and eat veggies and avoid cookies. I maintain my emotions, and try to heal and nurture the trauma and wounds that are still with me. But as I grow older, I also grow softer. I grow more confident in my ability to express my needs and uphold my boundaries. I also have improved in asking for and attaining what I need. I am increasingly in tune with what it is that my body and mind truly need in order to be at peace. I emulate the stately forest in her ability to provide comfort with her shedding twigs or dying branches. There is beauty to be observed in cycles of nature, and as we witness nature go through her cycles, we can also appreciate our cycles, our constant shedding and the small deaths we experience every day.