Pebble

Against the steel grey backdrop of sky, it’s raining leaves. The wind buffets the trees sending blazes of vibrant reds, deep oranges and brilliant yellow colors dancing at my feet on the wooded path. A few trees, rising tall above the spring-fed creek, hold tight to summer’s last vestiges of lime green and emerald, and I stand protected within this living canvas.

I retreated to a safe place where the only dangers are seen in the startled gaze of a deer or heard in the rattle of a snake. It’s a place where I know the shapes of poison oak, ivy and sumac lurking in the shadows. It’s a place where I know the depth of the caves and the height of the ridge. I know where the river’s currents will pull you under and where its peace will help you rise above.

I retreated from a concrete land where unseen dangers swept between the skyscrapers and swirled around me. I could feel their cold fingers clawing at my throat. In the abyss, they waited for me to fail and to fall. Evil lived in sight of the sun, mocked my steps and taunted my emotions.

And so, I came to stand amidst fall’s foliage. I stand until I root in the earth like the towering trees. I look until I find my space and in my vision; a small stone. It washed onto the creek bank after years of torrential rains and powerful currents tossed it against other rocks and boulders. After journeys from unknown places and pummeled and smoothed by time, it rests at my feet.

As I leave, it rains again. Mixed with the leaves are heaven’s tears showering grace and mercy. I hold fast to my pebble as the city’s skyline comes into view.

Water

I am the mist that permeates the air and softly dampens life. I am the sparkling dew that drenches the forest in the early morning hours. For a shining moment, I am the briefest of rain showers quenching the parched earth and emerging in beautiful colors through the sun and rainbow. As threatening weather descends, I am the sudden storm cell moving quickly and lashing out against nature’s elements sending damaging, flooding rains onto already soaked spaces.

I am the salt water tides rhythmically creating and eroding banks. I bring life in still pools and then take it suddenly leaving surprised victims gasping for air. I am peace and violence. I am unique and commonplace.

I am the lazy, slow river lumbering leisurely downstream carving paths into banks of cool clay creating resting spaces where none exist. Once renewed, I forge ahead in torrents spilling into tree lines and cascading over rocks until the noise deafens and I plunge over the cliff in glorious streams of energy. My power crushes all who slip in my way and my pulverizing force hits the cove below stirring the underwater scene.

And yet, I want to be the small droplet of water falling onto a smooth lake creating ripples and making a difference as I am absorbed.

Dreams

Dreams begin as vague ideas that emerge in the breath of the air floating ethereally until they catch the wind and form fingers reaching across space to caress your cheek like a lover. Then, they tug at your heart and catch in your throat. Dreams crystallize as tears streaming from eyes too long focused on sights present to see shapes of future possibilities. They forge paths and give energy to once tired footsteps. Slowly, they gain presence and stand beside you, lie with you and become your heartbeat.

And when dreams come true, it can happen in an instant. One simple moment as time stands still and then soars on newly formed wings lifting everyone along in a blur of excitement and joy. It becomes a tangible gift and the struggle to arrive in this place is quickly forgotten but those who travelled with us are not.

And only then do the other dreams placed in our hearts from the beginning become most evident. Dreams that are found in the joy of sharing with friends and family and experienced in the celebration of collective happiness. Dreams echoed in laughter and felt in warm embraces. Love, life and health – these are the real dreams we’ve had all along. How lucky we are to open their gifts and fly.

Forward Movement

On most days, we live confronted by a myriad of roads. Roads marked by opportunities and intersections of decisions. Our journey takes us down slow lanes where we leisurely enjoy the view or places us in heavy congestion where we can’t breathe for the pollution and are eager to race home and wash away the day’s grime. Sometimes we ride merrily in the HOV lane with others who offer company on our trip. We choose where to go, what to take and whom to bring with us.

And then there are other days when the roads become one and the view ahead looks the same as the view behind. Choices become narrowed into a single tight dirt lane without signage. Crinkled coffee stained maps are blown out the window, fancy GPS systems don’t work and we shift into other gears. And yet with years of baggage and cherished keepsakes loaded in the trunk, we get up and get by and ultimately move on. Not because we’re brave or brilliantly make the right decision. Not because we perfected a new method of weighing pros and cons and evaluating possible outcomes. We simply move forward because we can’t turn around. We move on because that is the only choice.

And even when on this crumbling single lane hanging to the side of a mountain cliff, there is still room in the car for others. We’re guided by hope and together search for lost dreams on life’s remarkable journey regardless of the road and the destination.

Standing Still

In the early morning hours, dew blankets the grass and drenches the forest with crystal balls. Fall is emerging in this sparkling wonderland and I gaze into its mysteries to find myself. A dense fog hangs heavy above the river, merges with the clouds and threads ribbons of wetness into the trees. A towering ridge of rock and woods shelters life on the earth floor below and carries the secrets of all who stand in the shadow into deeply hidden dark caves.

In times of need, some people run to safe places and safe people to find the chicken soup comfort of the ill. Others choose to escape and retreat into themselves burying pain and confusion as surely as placing feelings on steel shovels and scooping holes into the heart. A few rush headlong into a whirlwind of activities in efforts to lose time.

I combine tactics and run into these waiting arms of the woods. Nature comes alive and sings her songs to my soul. And even though there are family and friends who have never stood in this place with me, they are here. Some traveled the same path in years past and I look at the dirt and feel their footprints under mine. Others are with me in the wind caressing my damp skin with love. I touch the cold stone of the massive boulder and know their strength. I watch leaves rain on the air and hear their voices in the colorful shower. Massive oaks and sycamores protect me as I rest, fragile and small as a wild violet, under their powerful branches.

I stand in the presence of beauty and love. I stand long enough to gather strength for necessary footsteps into the trails of my life. I simply stand still long enough.