I open my eyes, the trailing edges of a dream by woodland and river brushing against my still foggy mind – impressions of roots and moss covered rocks, tender ferns springing up and delicate wildflowers blooming in shady places, flickering sunlight and blue sky through the old trees, the song of the river in its blithe becoming.
There was melancholy in my dream and an element of panic too – now the night’s questions and concerns linger as I come back to life with coffee in hand after a long night's ramblings. What if I am failing here in this lifetime? What if I am unable to express adequately and share in any meaningful way, just how rare and precious and beautiful is this sacred earth we are all treading together?
The tender ferns emerging from the ancient rocks in the gorge care not about such things, and they are content simply to be there in the sunlight of their native place. Perhaps, like them, I get to come back and leaf out over and over again until I get things right. I remember Joanna Macy's words and am comforted:
It is my experience that the world itself has a role to play in our liberation. Its very pressures, pains, and risks can wake us up -- release us from the bonds of ego and guide us home to our vast, true nature. For some of us, our love of the world is so passionate that we cannot ask it to wait until we are enlightened.
Joanna Macy, World as Lover, World as Self
Whatever happens, I shall be here among these hills forever and drinking in the light. My molecules will disperse and reassemble and cavort in many other life forms in times to come, but it may be that they will remember in some small measure or scrap of their being what it was like to be here this time around. That is quite enough...