“It is strange to
be here. The Mystery never leaves you
alone.” (xv)
-
John O’Donohue
Anam Cara: a Book of Celtic Wisdom
(1997)
Emerging from the deep freeze of
the last week, I went out on the hoof this morning. For the first time in days not bundled up
almost like Randy in “A Christmas Story” (so it seemed) I wandered down along
the railroad tracks and out of town_ wending a wandering way beyond-streets to
the bridge over Willow Creek (so-called by me).
There I stood, in wonderment, listening to the water flowing; which was making
a fair ruckus over and under ice sheets still protruding into the stream from
either side.
The sound of the water rushing beneath my station on the bridge refreshed
me. Bridges are always ‘places’ between
other places; they are neither ‘here’ nor ‘there,’ except that you are ‘[t]here’
when you are on one. The drops of water
slipping from the twigs and branches of the Aspen, Birch and Sycamore trees that
are swayed over Willow Creek signaled a quiet rhythmic message to all the woods
around that the Vernal ‘spirit’ was stirring and that Spring was now just over half-as-near
as it was far-off at Winter’s Solstice.
While there may be more deep-freezes before then, the day was prophesying
that in the turning of the Wheel of the Year, Spring is on its way!
On the way to work one day, with
a couple inches of new snowfall on the ground, I was struck by small patches on
the sidewalks ‘cleared’ by too much salt being poured in one place. They were no more than a foot in
diameter. The red brick or concrete
below the snow showing though, and the snow around the edges of the cleared
area seeming a little darker than the surrounding snow (probably owing to being
partially thawed), reminded me of some imaginative ‘tear in space-time’ from a
science fiction movie or TV show! The
pieces of salt in the midst of the little cleared area made me think of stars
on the ‘other side’ of the ‘tear.’ Okay,
perhaps I was a little too cold to be thinking clearly (lol), yet it was a
spontaneous engagement – albeit imaginative – with the Mystery of Nature. Poetic ideas mixed with observation of an
objective phenomena in the external world; it was an imaginative leap that made
the rest of the walk in sub-zero whether more bearable, more en-joy-able. Along the way I thought of black holes, worm
holes and the chemistry of salts and their interactions with H2O.
The next day, walking to work, I crossed
over the little creek that flows through town, sometimes above ground and
sometimes in culverts underground. Where
I was crossing it, the creek disappears underground for about three
blocks. Looking up the creek, to the
north of the sidewalk, I was suddenly struck by the visage of an almost
ice-covered rush of water. I could hear
the water flowing down the stream, even through my ear-muffs, and the fact that
about the middle third of the stream was not covered over by the ice, and that
the ice was translucent near the edges of the water’s flow, made the scene
picturesque! It seemed almost
illuminated! I regretted not having my
little pocket camera with me, and though urged onward toward my place of work
by the sub-zero temperatures, I stayed for a few seconds, absorbing the
scene! I was impressed with the imaged
scene of the ice-edged creek and by the sound of the water resonant in my ears the
rest of the way to work. I was en-joy-ed by it.
It was a moment of engagement with the Mystery of Nature!
The next night, as I was walking
home just after sunset, I was allured in to that Mystery again by the striking
reds, oranges and violets be-streaking the western sky! I had to stop at the railroad track and lift
my hood, to take in the horizon, from just east of South around to near North,
captivated by the rich and iridescent colors of the sunset! Wandering on home, trying to keep my footing
on the ice-covered sidewalks while glimpsing up – whenever I safely could – at the
changing colours of the sky, I went along hoping to still be able to en-joy the
sunset while shoveling walks before supper!
I was fortunate, as by the time I was clearing light, silky snow, the
reds and oranges had shifted towards the violet end of the spectrum. I was then startled to see the snow on lawns
on down the street radiantly reflecting light from the blue part of the
spectrum. Blue snow; purple
horizon. The colors were exuberant, and
they lit me up in soul-joy! It was a
moment of engagement with the Mystery of Nature.
This morning, standing at the
bridge over ‘Willow Creek’ (my imaginative name for that same creek, back in
town, in which I’d seen the “ice and water” scene three days before), I felt
that sudden sensation of connection-with-Nature, and knew its value. Not just its practical or economic value;
though those are important,
responsibly understood and handled—but its value for our very soul-life; that
which keeps us from merely surviving—that which raises us up to being able to
become the kind of beings that we are; human beings. We are
animals; but we have a particular ‘way’ of being-in-the-world; always
becoming. For we are a part of Nature;
Nature is our home—and there is no other home in the cosmos that we have yet
found to which we might go.
I stood for a long while –
grateful for the fact of the temperature having risen to just above freezing –
listening to the water of Willow Creek flowing below me; below the bridge—and
thinking about the sciences and how they interface with the imaginative mind
& heart. There are so many ways to
express our connection to Nature; our being part of it and living in it, even
if we too often experience ourselves cut off from it in constructed domestic
and social environments—however valuable they may be. Yet Nature presences, even on city streets
and in our homes; even on sub-zero days when we have to be out-and-about for
whatever purpose.
The point of being here, for me;
in the world and of the Earth—is to live
life, and not merely survive. Our being
a manifestation of Nature is the ur-taproot of our life-as-lived; even if we
are not conscious of it on a day-to-day, much less a moment-by-moment, basis,
as were, perhaps, our ancestors, long ago.
We are Nature, having become
conscious of itself; and reconnecting with that fact that can ground,
re-energize and transform us—lifting us above the daily rounds of work and play
and the trials that oft beset us. It can
bring us peace and it can help put our lives in perspective. Training ourselves to pay attention to Nature
even – and perhaps especially – in the midst of daily living and all that we
have to do to stay in-the-flow and now sink, provides a bridge – over our very
own creek – whereupon we can, if only for a moment, plumb the depths and
experience something of the alluring presence of Nature.
While its then ‘back to what
needs done,’ there is refreshment in paying attention to Nature all around us
when and where we can and, I think, this lightens the burden of living. To experience ourselves part of something so
vast and awe-inspiring as the Earth and Cosmos beyond it helps define us as the
beings we are. This is what I have
brought back from winter wandering today.
It was an engagement with the Mystery of Nature!
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| A View from the Bridge over Willow Creek (2011) |
