Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Something sacred, something shared

This is the most beautiful and profound place on earth right now.
There is nowhere I'd rather be and nobody I'd rather be sharing it with.
It is the perfect place to retreat from the world and connect to my inner world with my perfect partner.

I look across the grey green water and all I see is rustic beauty. Water, trees, a few tucked away remote island cabins, and juts of rock that serve as beacons for passing boats. This place has an untouched sacredness to it. 
The world that surrounds reminds me to slow down.

No striving.

I haven't heard bus brakes sounding off, relentless horns blaring, or constant traffic for nearly 5 days. 
I haven't been met with a nasty downcast glare in almost a week.
I have only felt the light and energy of the earth.
I have only heard the plop and hiss of waves carving out their age old initials into rock.
I have heard only silence and the whole world whispering to me, carving out age old initials into my being.

I yearn for silence. I yearn for peace. I yearn for balance in my surroundings.
I crave the space that allows me to think, and to not think at all.

There are so many birds here. SO many birds of a different feather that it's hard to keep track.
An eagle lives nearby and on the occasions that she has gifted me with her presence I have been struck dumb by the majesty of her flight. She is larger than any bird I have seen before and is way more focused than most humans.
There is a hawk as well, or maybe two or three. They do flybys each morning and dusk, searching for or bringing back a meal to their roost.
They are living on natures take-out, only this ain't no Dairy Queen.

At one point we hear these sounds that are like carnal mating calls. Gruff and nasty low timbre yelps that could only come from a species without ego or hangups, carried across the still waters, us listening with ears pricked like peeping toms on the other side of an echo. We could hear them working their way up towards us for at least an hour before seeing them. At one point I "expertly" decided that it was a bird....I even said to Britt, "I bet that's the sound of birds mating!" like a city boy who thinks he knows something, but apparently I know so little.
The sounds got louder until it was revealed right under our faces, a couple of otters mating. Hard. Core. Mating! A mess of oily slick bodies entwined and twirling around one another, her making playful noises that sounded like laughing, him biting at her neck with front paws wrapped tightly around her. It was a private dance that we'd been invited to by chance and a little bit of luck.

At a glance I look out of the kitchen-nook window and see several species of trees and wildflowers.
Outside I notice that pollen from these wildflowers covers every available space within minutes. It is like a gritty yellow dust. To some it could be annoying and irritating to the allergies but to me it is fascinating.
Right then and there I decide that the many bee's and wasps flying about are a direct result of this abundance of pollen-rich air.
I imagine the little fellers flying around, huffing the air and getting totally fucked up on pollen.

You tend to notice the little things when you're present.
Every scrape of every leaf is profound.
The thrum of hummingbird wings is transcendent.
The wash of colors all around, hand in hand and supporting each other in perfect unison. 
Watching the loons diving underwater for lunch and then resurfacing a minute later, 30 feet away.
The bee's that look like they've just gotten out of bed, antenna askew and bee fur matted, but they are elated in this early Spring splendour, smacking into the glass that surrounds our porch over and over again until finally they get pissed and fly upwards and away.

The leaves turning in wind. The smell of fresh rain. The water flowing, endlessly etching out change.

These may be small simple things, but right now they are among the most important for me.
They remind me of what I crave.....

There are no car horns, sirens, or overpriced bus stops here.
People smile and say hello and take care of you where and when they can.

Not to paint a utopian ideal or wear rose coloured glasses indoors, but I see this kind of place for what it is and could be for me. Present, untouched, silent (save for otters fucking) sacred, filling to the heart.

It is difficult to imagine any of these things whilst living in the city, but I know they can exist. It takes some work and envisioning, but they can exist. And until I am in a land of water, forests, wild animals, and quiet, I will do all that I can to get to the heart of it, no matter where I am.

And for now I will remember this most beautiful and profound place on earth.

Thank you.....

1 comment:

  1. My god, thank you. What a beautiful piece of writing.