Sunday, October 5, 2008

Michaelmas, St. Francis and Nurse Logs

Digital images by Ann Johnson.


At a forest retreat in October, we move our bodies in a line over moss-covered paths, in silence. Not minding rain. The sloping path to the Wetlands Trail allows for alignment with our seasonal descent following Autumn Equinox and Michaelmas.


We bring balance

and courage

and light.


The Feast of St. Francis opens the door to this week. Our lives are that "instrument of peace."


Make me and instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

and where there is sadness, joy.


I note the many forms of moss and lichen, the mushrooms, the Nurse Logs. Renewal is evident as new plants emerge from the decaying logs. The air is cool. At the bottom of the trail, the land levels out at the swamp. My body relaxes into the lowland, weight supported by the cushioning ground in all its richness. Out of this deep dark comes new life.


In another season I walk this same trail.

A glow catches my eye

and I turn toward the light.

In the dark marsh, I hear trickles of water.

On the surface of a small puddle

light is reflected from a break in the overshadowing cedars.

Here in the darkness

is the blue sky looking up

clouds traveling across the watery surface of blue

- a bright shimmer raises out of the ground.
Bioluminescence of deep places.



The season of rains has come. It reconstitutes my life and work. I want the deepest parts of myself to flow to the outer edges of my life - to nourish that place where I touch the world.


Today sounds like spring.

Clouds have parted and the song sparrows

insist

on a celebration!

I'm grateful for the invitation.



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