Listening

We think ventures into the woods are on our own accord; but in reality, we are propelled deeper down forest paths moving in sync with the rhythms of the earth urging everyone to listen to the call of the wild. Our awakening senses hear the animals rustling dry leaves and the melodious music of birds. We hear the force of a mountain stream splashing over rocks and tumbling onward into undiscovered places. The wind ripples the small lake and washes it ashore in waves mirroring distant ocean tides.

At first blinded by nature’s splendor, we stumble forward until out of breath, we stop. In that moment, we become connected in this place - connected to who we are, who we long to be and who we always were. And we realize that more than what we see and hear the echoes of what is left behind is no longer with us. We become attuned to what is not heard. The noise of people is vanquished -traffic racing ahead, sirens blasting in the distance. We don’t hear the sounds of stress in rapid heartbeats and panicked breathing.

In the deep stillness of the woods, we feel the harmony of nature carving its existence from the strengths of the past and adapting to each day. We are brought here to listen first to ourselves. Our voices lost among the noise of others and in the obstacles of the day. Our thoughts shattered by remnants of the past. We are brought to this place so our hearts can again beat in time with the ancient patterns of the earth. So we can build upon the past, dream anew and move forward with abandonment to our own undiscovered places.

Rested, with eyes and spirit again open, our lives are illuminated against the dark cover of the green canopy like the last summer flowers radiantly blooming and casting beauty beyond the shadows.

Fairy Tales at the Symphony

The room darkened as strains of music slowly drifted into corners of empty silence. Rich velvet reds blurred with white marble and gleaming wood as the symphony players, sitting under highly polished chrome fixtures holding their highly polished instruments, became the only view. The crowd shuffled in their seats and an occasional cough echoed throughout the large hall. Applause greeted the conductor as he strode onto his platform and with a sweeping gesture, he waved his magic wand and music from the ages sprang to life.

For a few moments, I sat mesmerized. Then I noticed a couple sitting in the choir seats overlooking the musicians. They appeared to breathe as one and occupy the same chair. Their happy glow left their dewy skin and landed on everyone around them. Soon the music formed a backdrop for the story I wove about their love. But, was it real? And what do any of us know about anyone? Even walking 1000 miles in the shoes of another doesn’t allow entry into private thoughts or let us know why the heart beats to certain arrangements.

I recalled another couple, sitting near these same seats, with two teenagers attending the symphony last Fall. The mother was dressed in glitter and the sparkles cast the only light on her skin. Her husband sat one seat over and the teenagers, hunched down in two other seats, sat even further down the row. She held her head high during the performance but nearing intermission; she appeared to rest heavily from the weight of many burdens. Yet, after the intermission, they sat together, four in a row, looking like the perfect family. Did they make up after an argument or did they simply take advantage of more comfortable space for a short while?

I wondered who was the happiest. Which couple had the real love that would last a lifetime? Did it belong to the ones sitting so closely together or did it belong to the ones sitting apart? Are outward signs of love evidence of deep love? Will it last longer than the love that remains hidden unveiled only to the intended? And then I wondered why I was wondering about others. I returned my attention to the beautiful music knowing that it was enough that I was happy and could see love in everyone.