Goodbye, August

  

  

  

soul gazing

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice–

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do–

determined to save

the only life you could save. 

– Mary Oliver, The Journey

 

 

Entering the labyrinth

 

This is what I see when I look out the window at work.  Right now, it’s lush and green and ripe with animal and vegetable life.  In another month or so, the leaves will change and drop, and soon after the snow will come. 

I realized today that I mark a new year three times within each twelve months. There is of course, January 1, to which I give somewhat perfunctory attention. My next new year starts with the Vernal Equinox, the time of rebirth and awakening. This is the new year that resonates most deeply with me – the golden green of new growth, the lengthening of the days, the hints of warmth in the air, the animal kingdom rousing itself to get food and procreate  – I feel my own genius reawakening along with the Earth.  

Then there is the start of the academic year, the time when I must enter the labyrinth.  I enter with trepidation, wondering how I am going to navigate the paths that go around in circles and those that end up at a wall.  I wonder if getting through this twisting turning puzzle is really worth the trouble it takes.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to take a more direct route?  I don’t ask these questions out loud, but they are always on my mind.  Finally, I wonder how, when I get to the end of the maze, I will be able to find the way back to my own path.

How fortunate I am, then, to have a room with such a view. Looking at the always-changing scenery outside my window centers me at the start of the day and offers me brief  transcendental moments whenever I need them.  I am comforted by observing the seasonal cycles of the flora and fauna. This view is a gift from the Universe that knows how fettered my soul feels from its vantage point within the labyrinth.

 

A gift from the hawk

“Hawk is the messenger, about visionary power and guardianship. Hawk is very protective of the young in its nest, and teaches us about providing for family and self. Hawk teaches us to be observant and to pay attention to what we may overlook. This could mean a talent we don’t use, a blessing for which we haven’t expressed gratitude, or a message from Spirit.” – Animal Symbolism

 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the whole process of paying attention and how quiet mindfulness can open up so many doors between the self and the universe. 

 

In January when I chose the words mindful balance to shape my year, it was to prompt me “to follow the higher path, always mindful that a journey of a thousand miles starts with one step.”  But as the months went on, I found myself falling more and more out of balance as I allowed my inner voice and the whispers of the universe to be drowned out by the static surrounding me.  By the time June came around, I felt like a broken-wheeled wagon stuck in a bog in the wilderness.  It was pretty dismal.

 

A short time later, the Hawk showed up.  Every day, he would circle our property, screeching incessantly out over the trees before roosting at the top of the highest pine tree. After surveying the landscape for a while he would take off for another ride across the forest canopy, screeching, circling, landing, over and over…  One day he swooped down across my window, an awesome flash of tawny reds and browns. It felt as if he were trying to get my attention. Oddly enough, I soon began to sense all kinds of good things reawakening within me.

 

After that, it seemed as if there were hawks everywhere… crossing my path where I walked, flying across the road where I drove, dropping feathers on the ground like little gifts for me to find… reminders to pay attention to the universe, to listen to my inner voice, and to have gratitude for my blessings.