My mom and I went for a walk today in Upper Park. We drove out there about eleven. It was sunny and in the fifties. The parking lots were full to overflowing with cars, but we somehow hardly saw any people. The dirt road was open so we drove in to Alligator Hole and walked up the Yahi Trail from there.
It was warm for winter, but there were still bits of frosty ice in the mud of the paths where they dipped into deep shadow. The parts in the sun had melted into mud which I mulched through in my new hiking boots, happy to have them. It rained all last week so the whole world smelled damp. Damp dried grass, damp fall leave, damp rocks with their damp bright green mossiness, damp tree bark and gravel and scrub brush.
We walked along the creek, listening as the sounds ebbed and flowed from deep silent pools to clear, crisp, happy rapids, and back into deep silence. As we walked into the pools of silence, bits and snatches of bird song filled the void. Bird song in California does not have the full symphonic character of Midwestern bird song. It is more scattered solos and duets. Our feet crunched along on the gritty, muddy trail.
It was high noon, but the winter sun hung low. As if too exhausted to heave herself any higher, she listed her way across the sky, only waiting for the moment when she could dive back into the night. This left even the brightest time of the day softly muted, giving an orangy tinge to the world. Even so, the light sparkled brightly through left over rain drops, and glinted blindingly off the calm waters of the deep pools.
It was a quiet, peaceful walk. A good start to the New Year and a nice follow-up to the ritual I put together for the church service last Sunday. I started with this quote:
“Judeo-Christian dualism has conditioned us to think of destruction as synonymous with evil . . . Most of us live removed from nature, cut off from the experiences that constantly remind more “primitive” people that every act of creation is an act of aggression. To plant a garden, you must dig out the weeds, crush the snails, thin the seedlings as they reach toward the light. To write a book, you must destroy draft after draft of your own work, cutting apart paragraphs and striking out words and sentences. Creation postulates change; and change destroys what went before.” by Starhawk.
I said that the deep of winter is a good time to do some productive destruction. What do we need to let go of, weed out, destroy? What do we need to get rid of in order to prepare the soil of ourselves for new growth? I read a guided meditation, and then had everyone write down what they wanted to weed out on slips of paper that we all took turns burning. I wrote down FEAR.
Then I talked about productive creation. What do we want to grow in our lives? I did a second guided meditation and then passed around bowls of pomegranate seeds for people to eat as they thought about the seeds they wanted to plant. I thought dancing, writing, singing, art.
I will be working my personal soil to clear it of fear, and planting the seeds of creativity. A work in progress, not something to be done in one day, or one year, or perhaps not even one lifetime!
So we went for a walk in the park today and I thought about all of this. And I thought about all of my friends and family. My friends who live in the snow. My friends who live nearby. My family who live all across the country. I said a Buddhist prayer for myself, for my friends, and for my family that we may enjoy happiness and the root of happiness, and that we may be free from suffering and the roots of suffering.
Happy New Year!
InPeace, Nikki
It was warm for winter, but there were still bits of frosty ice in the mud of the paths where they dipped into deep shadow. The parts in the sun had melted into mud which I mulched through in my new hiking boots, happy to have them. It rained all last week so the whole world smelled damp. Damp dried grass, damp fall leave, damp rocks with their damp bright green mossiness, damp tree bark and gravel and scrub brush.
We walked along the creek, listening as the sounds ebbed and flowed from deep silent pools to clear, crisp, happy rapids, and back into deep silence. As we walked into the pools of silence, bits and snatches of bird song filled the void. Bird song in California does not have the full symphonic character of Midwestern bird song. It is more scattered solos and duets. Our feet crunched along on the gritty, muddy trail.
It was high noon, but the winter sun hung low. As if too exhausted to heave herself any higher, she listed her way across the sky, only waiting for the moment when she could dive back into the night. This left even the brightest time of the day softly muted, giving an orangy tinge to the world. Even so, the light sparkled brightly through left over rain drops, and glinted blindingly off the calm waters of the deep pools.
It was a quiet, peaceful walk. A good start to the New Year and a nice follow-up to the ritual I put together for the church service last Sunday. I started with this quote:
“Judeo-Christian dualism has conditioned us to think of destruction as synonymous with evil . . . Most of us live removed from nature, cut off from the experiences that constantly remind more “primitive” people that every act of creation is an act of aggression. To plant a garden, you must dig out the weeds, crush the snails, thin the seedlings as they reach toward the light. To write a book, you must destroy draft after draft of your own work, cutting apart paragraphs and striking out words and sentences. Creation postulates change; and change destroys what went before.” by Starhawk.
I said that the deep of winter is a good time to do some productive destruction. What do we need to let go of, weed out, destroy? What do we need to get rid of in order to prepare the soil of ourselves for new growth? I read a guided meditation, and then had everyone write down what they wanted to weed out on slips of paper that we all took turns burning. I wrote down FEAR.
Then I talked about productive creation. What do we want to grow in our lives? I did a second guided meditation and then passed around bowls of pomegranate seeds for people to eat as they thought about the seeds they wanted to plant. I thought dancing, writing, singing, art.
I will be working my personal soil to clear it of fear, and planting the seeds of creativity. A work in progress, not something to be done in one day, or one year, or perhaps not even one lifetime!
So we went for a walk in the park today and I thought about all of this. And I thought about all of my friends and family. My friends who live in the snow. My friends who live nearby. My family who live all across the country. I said a Buddhist prayer for myself, for my friends, and for my family that we may enjoy happiness and the root of happiness, and that we may be free from suffering and the roots of suffering.
Happy New Year!
InPeace, Nikki
