I am part of a silent, and often invisible beach community. “Hello’ or the nod of a head is enough communication when we are visible to each other. I dare say that our community only exists when we are visible on the beach. Today all my friends had disappeared. Just me and this visible sign of an invisible world.
This log has been kicking around the beach for the past few weeks; kicked by the wind and waves and by some of my invisible beach-walking friends. I first noticed it by the water’s edge, and then another day it was along the seawall. Today it was standing proud and strong in the sand, clearly the handiwork of one of my beach buddies.
I am part of a silent, and often invisible beach community. “Hello’ or the nod of a head is enough communication when we are visible to each other. I dare say that our community only exists when we are visible on the beach. Today all my friends had disappeared. Just me and this visible sign of an invisible world.
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After a fairly active week, I’m now back at the cottage, and all I have is silence, solitude and simplicity. In fact, this has been an incredibly uneventful and dreary day weather wise; grey sky all of one hue, waves inaudibly lapping on the rocks, a quiet rain keeping me from a walk on the beach. Actually, it’s not any more silent than usual here in the cottage, but today it feels like my world is soundless. What comes to mind is that I am living in negative silence, that all the sound has been sucked right out of the air. Why do I think this? Perhaps because I see no life out there, specifically, not a gull or merganser in sight. If I opened the door to venture out, I have no doubt that my ears would pop just from the sound of the gentle waves. But it’s dark now. I think I’ll stay in and live through this eerie day. I rather like it. Look for the nest. This morning I sat in the Angel Room looking out at a squirrel going up and down, up and down, up and down a tree, carrying leaves to build his nest. This certainly didn’t look simple to me; I was exhausted just watching. But then I realized that he had a rather simple routine; he never varied his route, and he always stuffed his cheeks from the same pile of leaves. He had a singular intention, his body was up to the task, and his purpose was life sustaining. Clearly, for him, this was simple. Thomas Keating, writing in a religious context, and most likely in reference to human beings, puts this squirrel activity in some kind of simple perspective for me. See what you think; maybe his words will resonate with something in your life. "Thus, simplicity ultimately consists in the perfect ordering of all the parts so that the whole acts with ease, enjoyment, and peace. Everything looks easy, natural, and harmonious and thus simple, while in fact the simplicity is the result of immense complexity, ordered into a unity of purpose and motivated by the discipline of letting go and limitless trust in God." Thomas Keating www.contemplativeoutreach.org/ Very likely many of you have read Paulo Coelho’s first book, The Alchemist, published in1988. I am now enthralled with his latest, Aleph, which is equally compelling. In fact, it could easily provide me with a year’s worth of quotes of the day about soul searching, truth telling, going deeper. In this day and age most of us think we need silence, solitude and simplicity to become centered, and to a large extent that is undoubtedly true. But then, when we get away by ourselves for an extended period of time, we become aware of our need for companionship, and so we seek it out. Back and forth our seesaw goes. Aleph is about a man’s search for his soul, not through silence, solitude and simplicity, but through connecting with others. The protagonist has done his fair share of independent living, and now realizes that it is time for him to search through companionship. Coelho isn’t implying that this is the natural order of soul work--rather that it is the path for this one man at this particular time in his life. We all have to figure out how to ride our own seesaw. Not simple. Life keeps presenting me with questions and then I have to figure out what I should do to get the next answers. Of course the ride never ends. I like to post at least every other day, but sometimes it just doesn’t happen. One of my problems is that my mind doesn’t let me write once evening sets in. Nothing comes out. A related problem is that evening comes too fast. “Where did the day go,” I say. I tell you this because maybe you have the same problem. Maybe you’re thinking, “Thank god I’m not the only person who gets stuck.” (By the way, I don’t think it has anything to do with silence, solitude and simplicity.) I heard a bird sing In the dark of December A magical thing And sweet to remember. “We are nearer to Spring Than we were in September,” I heard a bird sing In the dark of December Oliver Herford For at least thirty years I have been inspired by this little ditty of a poem. It was always the ‘Poem of the Day’ on the first of December in my kindergarten class. When I stopped teaching, I would send it out to family and friends as a card, and later over email. Now I’m sharing it through my blog. What resonates with me is the magical message that hope includes living each day along the way. How could I know spring without experiencing snow? |
Contact me: bobbifisher.mac@mac.com
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