Mountain paths

The paths of the mountains weave and turn flowing upward like the rivers down to nurture the mesas. The rhythm of Life.  Setting the dream, the intent surrenders the how.  I only have to continue the path. The best trees and beauty are often found on the unplanned paths of nature. What will BE, what IS, remains unbound by time, calendars and unforeseen events. Love is boundless. I choose Love. I choose Flow worrying not about the path.

There is no such thing as being blindsided, disruptions, detours, nor denial. They are simply whispers to look around and discover the unseen flower, tree or the reflection of the sun streaming through the dense forest or mountain path. A gentle whisper...."Here." Choose Love. Choose Life. Choose abundance. Choose Laughter. Sweet mercy, choose to See.

Surrender without conquer

The hour and then the morning passed by unspoken. No need to speak, we knew what would be done. At the peak of the day’s heat, the house already stifled, I set out for my walk. No cool morning air upon my skin. A cloudless sun filled sky greeted my already weakened body.

Strength against strength. Will against will. There will be no victor no conquered. One can be neither a warrior nor a lover only in the cool of the morning when life is comfortable.  Sometimes one has to strike a surrendered determined stance of strength for strength and will for will. And with a tympani pounding beneath each temple, the sweat painting my back like an Etch-A-Sketch, the hill that is my reward at the end of the walk, and the sun eye to eye with my own, we each whispered ‘Namaste.’

 A crow began cawing loudly over my head as I bowed. And with my bow, next to my feet, Life added, “Well done.”

Bookmark

And if I truly believe that nature teaches me…what is the lesson these weak eyes see?  Clouds and a mountain.  In life, they are often symbols of that which either darkens and hides my path or makes the journey seem impassable. The clouds are hovered round the mountain peak. Obstacle upon obstacle?  “No,” I whisper, both an affirmation and confessed plea.  For cheering them on are waving spectators of spring and patches of blue. Do I not also see the caress, the embrace of softness around that so hardened?  Do I not also see the surrender of strength to that so ephemeral?  Maybe I have been guilty of mixed metaphors.  When clouds seem so heavy and I cannot find my way, maybe instead of an obstacle, life has gathered my hardened fear into her embrace.  Maybe when the mountains seem so steep for my weakened body and faith, instead of weakened maybe they are reaching towards the solid certainty of life’s embrace.  Darnit, I don’t know.  I was  just walking and something made me pause and look.  I think it is important, and leave the bookmark here.  No matter, really, a moment of beauty, a wink of grace.