Grey and sullen skies portend the rest of winter
stretching out like a vista into the vast, unwelcome, unknown.
Expectations and dreams temporarily dormant,
I walk the back roads, searching for what is real.
Indoors, hope sometimes feels elusive
and I venture out, yearning for certainty in the ordinariness of life in the woods.
Rhythms of survival, established long ago,
wind their way through the trees above
and fallen leaves below.
Lost in thought, the chorus gradually creeps into my conciousness.
Robin voices float through the surrounding mist, along with the softer whistling of cedar waxwings
feeding on holly and bittersweet.
Chickadees and titmice flit from branch to branch,
providing the percussion section,
while a solitary hermit thrush pauses its ground foraging,
soberly considering my presence.
Promise is present at my feet.
Moss grows in extravagant abundance when all else seems extinguished.
and fungi and lichen are undaunted by what I consider to be harsh conditions.
Acorns, sweet gum balls and ash seeds welcome the cold
they need to germinate in the coming spring.
All is as it should be here...
No resistance, no wasted energy eulogizing what isn't,
Adapting to what is, the key to survival.
The rest of winter.
I began this day, wanting to write something about creating safe spaces for ourselves and those we encounter during these troubled times. I wanted to offer words of encouragement to keep working for the well being of each other and to offer illustrations of community and sustenance from the natural world. But I can't seem to find the words, as I made the mistake of looking at the news a little while ago.
And so, all I can offer today is the invitation to step into beauty, as I did this morning. Best would be for you to step outside and into whatever beauty you are afforded where you live. But I offer these pictures of what surrounds me in this place.
Do not make the mistake of thinking that these images are of frozen lifeless, and barren landscapes for they host an almost infinite number of birds, hidden in the shelter of the grasses, cattails and tangles. Maybe there is an analogy there for us, waiting to be written on another day.
In these moments as you look, breathe in deeply, feel the frosty air, hear the geese and ducks, woodpeckers and sparrows that are not in the pictures, note the muted hues of tans, and browns and grays and how they play together. Mourn if you need to, be renewed and gather strength for what lies ahead in your day. Breathe a prayer of thanksgiving for life, in all its forms, and a prayer for its protection, as well.
Blessings to you, on this day of the winter solstice.
Barren trees and frozen ground, interlacing grays and browns surrounding.
Dormancy with hidden promise, not yet expectation. Too early for swelling buds or coloring twigs. The coldest and deepest sleep is yet to come.
Silence.
Then... tapping, rattling, rustling debris falling from above, curtain of brown powder against the winter sky and branches. Life, after all.
Leaden sky, lifeless amber stalks as far as the eye can see. Low tide, expanse of mud and muck mostly, uncompromising honesty of what is, at the bottom of the marsh.
No illusions of abundance nor reflections of fullness, here.
Instead, crusted icy tributaries, like the tentacles of God winding through this
broken and unsuspecting world,
snake through the mire, unappreciated life-source.
Standing still, unmoving, unnoticed behind dried rushes
in the pale light.
A grey lump, inanimate, dead-stump like, invisible
until a single ray of sunlight reflects back from the white in his face and the gleam in his eye.
Suddenly there. Suddenly, "Oh, of course! How could I not see him,"
even as the sun retreats and he is returned to obscurity.
Sureness questioned...Alive, nonetheless.
Advent.
I have been thinking about juxtaposition, "the act or instance of placing side by side, especially for comparison or contrast", lately. Every day I sadly read of the incoming administration's new instances of assault on the land, disregard for people and utter disdain for decency and the dignity of life. But, every day, I also delight in walks through the woods, the birds at the feeders, the play of sunlight on holly leaves and the rustling of persistent beech leaves in the wind. On the one hand, discouragement at what feels like encroaching darkness, and on the other, gratitude for witnessing life and light, in all its seemingly simple day to day normalcy.
Lately, I have also been pondering my place in this world and what my contributions to it have been and might be. I tend to measure myself against the efforts of the people who do "big things" for good which, of course, leaves me feeling considerably lacking and is a decidedly unhelpful attitude. Still, I long to make a difference...
It was in answer to that longing that some well-known words and a new hedgerow planting intersected into the affirmation that my intentions and efforts are valuable, possibly life-changing. The hedgerow is a mix of black chokeberry and still-fruiting winterberry bushes, the latter being visited daily by a migrant hermit thrush from the north. It was while watching the thrush eat that Jesus' words came to me, "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in..."
I realized that all the kindnesses that I extend, be it toward creatures who come to live out a part of their lives in the back yard, or fellow jury panelists with whom I recently spent a day, or a neighbor who needs a listening ear, or a roadside that needs to be cleared of the trash of too many careless passersby....all those kindnesses combine into opportunities for healing, healing for me, as well as others. It is in the doing what I can do, and the trusting to God what I cannot manage that will allow me to live, if not always at peace, at least with the gratitude that I have been able to give to the world what is mine to give, hopefully, for the blessing of all.
