When I looked out my living room window this morning, the view just took my breath away. I am fortunate enough to have a national park as my backdoor neighbor. In the last few days the fall color has burst out in its full glory. Closest to me are shades of orange and russet, but a cluster of brilliant yellow trees stands right in the middle of my panorama. Earlier today the sky was dark and brooding in the background, but a bright shaft of sunlight spotlighted that grove.
As the morning has progressed, the sky has brightened to a beautiful robin's egg blue with puffy white clouds, providing a perfect frame for the oranges closest to me. The wind blowing through the trees brings with it a similar tranquility to listening to the surf at the beach.
In the spring I have been equally taken with the tender lime greens of new leaves, interspersed with the violets of the native redbud trees. What a wonder! And, especially after a long and hard winter, what a blast of hope predicting an unending progression of color that will follow all spring and summer...leading up to the beauty that grabbed me today. Only God's paintbrush could have created such wonders.
How is it that we have been blessed with such wonder? It is certainly a gift and one that always lifts my heart when I am alert to that blessing. This morning I believe I experienced still a different purposefulness of nature's beauty.
I start each day by taking a few moments (occasionally it takes more than a few) to connect with the vibrational feeling in my heart that I believe is my connection to Love or to God...or probably they are the same. From what I have been able to tell, I can only do this when I am totally present. If my mind is drifting to yesterday or last week or jumping ahead to later today or tomorrow, I cannot get that feeling. So it was this morning that my mind seemed obsessed with something that happened in the past that I need to deal with tomorrow. Like a tennis match, my mind bounced from the past to the future back to the past...and so on...inconveniently skipping right over the "net" that is the present.
Determined not to start my day without being present and connected, I tried everything I could to will myself present. I tried for a very long time. I couldn't do it. Then I remembered to pray for help, and almost as I did, a snapshot of the landscape in the park flashed across my mind's eye. ("Remembering to Pray" 10/30/2013) Even in my imagining it was so beautiful that I gasped, and the moment I did, I felt the connection in my heart. After struggling for nearly an hour to connect, the beauty of God's paintbrush brought me into the present moment instantly. And...I have stayed there all day.
I have certainly had the experience of awe and wonder in the mountains, the Grand Canyon, and countless other places in nature. Today, I wonder if the purpose of those wonders is to call us present and to remind us of the omnipresence and timelessness of God's love for us, always there just for the price of recognizing it.
Showing posts with label fall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fall. Show all posts
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Seeds of Faith
This is my first full year in my apartment, and I am still planting my balcony garden. Thursday a box full of plants and bulbs was waiting for me when I got home. For me there is something therapeutic about getting my fingers in the soil, so when I embarked on the chore of planting, I did so with much joy.
Fall is a time when I become most consciously aware of faith. As I put out the plants that will grace my home next spring, I do so with a great deal of faith. I trust that if I do my part--plant them right, fertilize, and then water them regularly--they will do their part.
The magic isn't limited to my balcony. In the park behind my home, seeds are or have been dropped and are working their way into the ground to grow roots. Fruits and vegetables left too long in the field have broken open and dispersed their seeds. Wild flowers have gone to seed. The wind has scattered their seeds as well. In something of a mystery, during the winter when the elements seem most inhospitable to fostering life, a magical process of starting life is going on.
This mysterious cycle of life occurs so regularly that it is easy to lose touch with the wonder of what is occurring. In many ways, what occurs in our own spiritual development parallels what happens in nature. Each day as I attempt to grow more whole, whether it be in how I eat or exercise or in my focus on creating heart connections with the clerks in the grocery store.
I take actions each day, not because I expect something will miraculously change in an instant. I take actions in alignment with my intentions for who I am becoming because I have faith that if I do those actions to which I've committed every day, then a few months down the road in what seems like an overnight success, the seeds I've been planting will spring forth in a new me.
Spiritual growth, like planting my garden, is an act of faith. If I act consistently over time, I will grow into a new person, as surely as the tulip bulbs I planted yesterday will blossom in shades of purple and pink. I have faith that I will grow into more wholeness, and by so doing, I will plant seeds for a better world.
Fall is a time when I become most consciously aware of faith. As I put out the plants that will grace my home next spring, I do so with a great deal of faith. I trust that if I do my part--plant them right, fertilize, and then water them regularly--they will do their part.
The magic isn't limited to my balcony. In the park behind my home, seeds are or have been dropped and are working their way into the ground to grow roots. Fruits and vegetables left too long in the field have broken open and dispersed their seeds. Wild flowers have gone to seed. The wind has scattered their seeds as well. In something of a mystery, during the winter when the elements seem most inhospitable to fostering life, a magical process of starting life is going on.
This mysterious cycle of life occurs so regularly that it is easy to lose touch with the wonder of what is occurring. In many ways, what occurs in our own spiritual development parallels what happens in nature. Each day as I attempt to grow more whole, whether it be in how I eat or exercise or in my focus on creating heart connections with the clerks in the grocery store.
I take actions each day, not because I expect something will miraculously change in an instant. I take actions in alignment with my intentions for who I am becoming because I have faith that if I do those actions to which I've committed every day, then a few months down the road in what seems like an overnight success, the seeds I've been planting will spring forth in a new me.
Spiritual growth, like planting my garden, is an act of faith. If I act consistently over time, I will grow into a new person, as surely as the tulip bulbs I planted yesterday will blossom in shades of purple and pink. I have faith that I will grow into more wholeness, and by so doing, I will plant seeds for a better world.
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