Lately, I have been walking. My dogs have now learned that to get me to take them they must corner me against the door any door in the house. They watch me like a cat to mouse. Laying low and following me around corners outside bathroom doors. All to hike out into the woods where they will find wild streams to abandon their winter blues in whilst dousing themselves with putrid mud smells that the winter streams have held inside.
The walks have been good, they have raised my senses to a new level. The sky on these days is such a miraculous blue there isn't a name for this blue. I decided that today. The blue appears like a cut out almost behind the white pines that line the Boardman River. I find myself stopping and just staring up to see this sight, inside I have no thoughts. Its a relief.
To have not one thought bouncing like a number ball inside your head. So on these walks I have begun to trudge. Trudge the road of happy destiny? One can only hope. I am sure I could pay someone to help me along with these thoughts and conversations I have at times when alone. But I know what is the greatest healer for my soul and that is the walking and trudging and healing that comes from the mother of all mothers the earth.
I trudge and stare, trudge and stare. Take deep breathes and look out at the mud and think about how beautiful and dark and oozing it is, the soil the depth the ability to plant and grow. What an amazing substance. Today, I slipped and fell in it but it felt good. My companion was startled and dismayed at the mud upon my hands and pants but not me I was delighted. All winter white is gone. Now its layer of mud has appeared underneath, that the spring will pull off and the summer greens will show up just in time to save our needy souls from freezing into dispair.
What I have learned from walks, from trees, from water, from mud, and from seasons is that its the course we must take to be plump and juicy like a fruit. In my life, I have always wanted to be a plump and juice old lady that had a lot of soul and an edge to shock the younger ones about me. This doesn't happen from staying inside. This happens from falling in mud, from taking time out and staring at the sky.
Lately, I have learned a lot. The small insights from being quiet are not always easy to acknowledge. To grieve the lost of a marriage or the death of a parent isn't easy but the deeping is rewarding. So I am off daily to the woods next to the river onto the paths that are light by such an amazing hue of white light. Its here I am finding respite and reprieve from the line in the heart and the loud chatter in my mind.
I am grateful, often on these jaunts I think of others less fortunate and I pray for them. For them to be able to walk on the beach with the texture of the sand underneath, for them to be able to see the sun and the waters that surround us and have a choice to jump in and swim. Or to take that path in the woods. I pray for those who don't see mother earth as a healing bowl. She has never let me down in anyway.
Today, I took pictures for my brother a horticulturist and texted them a shot of some hardwoods. I wrote " I bet you miss these!!" He replied with a picture of the China Beach in San Francisco where he happened to be visiting and wrote "not really". Seeing the pictured made me smile. It was our Mother who taught us to revere the earth and when in any place new to find the earths beauty that was displayed so prominantly.
Its dusk now, the light is kind of dirty. Its transitioning between winter to spring and its filter seems a tad smeared. The mud on the snow is ugly and gritty like a city. But the Bay out the window is chopped in two part winter ice and part teal blue. My heart is beating quietly and my mind is silent. Grateful for the woods to trudge in and the plump juice I feel coursing through my winter veins.