If you have been reading my blog posts, then you have been sharing in my enjoyment of Red Rock Country. The beautiful colors and shapes of the rock formations frame an overload of the senses. Among those great stones are vivid tones of plant life, great and small. Various shades of green are accented by bright florals that seem to shift each month. The air is so clear, that the sky seems to step down and lend its own hues to this parade of color. Subtle scents take flight and dance in that clear air, along with sound hushed by the pine and juniper. It seems like perpetual dazzlement. And yet, this richness of beauty does not compare autumn in the Northeast.
I am back in New York. I have spent time in the city and in the country. For several days I was up in the Catskills/Shawangunk region where I had lived and worked. I haven’t been gone that long, but somehow I had forgotten about the majesty of Fall. In my mind, somehow, the triumph of those hearty plants in the high desert had replaced the graceful passage of time marked by changing leaves. As practitioners of mindfulness, we often speak of the effect preconceptions can have on one’s experiences. What about its opposite? When I approached these trees, this vista, this tapestry of red, gold, orange and brown, I had lost my “conception” of Fall.
With gratitude, I looked into the green warmth of the hemlock, bathed in the magenta, burgundy, orange and chrome auras of maple. I felt the sharp contrast of the birch… Leaves. Is that what they do, these colors? Do they leave the mind, to be enjoyed freshly each year? I reflected on what I was now experiencing and what I may not have fully appreciated before. Meditating on beauty, I sat on a cool stone, with my back straight, in a wash of sunlight among the trees. It seemed like a perfect spot. In front of me was a large dead or dying pine. Hence, the reason for the clear spot of light. More gratitude and reverence for the passing giant.
Without is needles, its coat, its trunk is bare. I can see the whole tree. It seems firm and sturdy. This is a good model for my spine as I meditate. I imagine my spine as clear and tall as this pine. Reaching toward the sky and not buffeted by winds. I relax and feel the flow of energy. I smell see hear this beauty and I am introduced to myself anew. My reflection leads me to spiritual considerations and all those years of bible study as a child. I have a sense of appreciation for the story of the man who was told he had to be reborn. Even as a child, it was obvious that he was not being guided to reverse time and re-enter the physical birth process. However, as a child, I had no storehouse of experiences; everything had a freshness. I could not see that I had nothing to lose. In this spot, I sit and recognize the power of allowing yourself to lose all that you know, to allow your faculties of perception the gift of newness. To be reborn is to experience life as if it were new. Another flash and I remember the apostle who said he died daily. I can understand that this was an expression of celebration and not of suffering. Because of this daily death, he could experience life anew on a regular basis. To do this everyday takes conscious choice.
Sincerely, I breathe in new air, humble myself and release what I “know,” even the experiences of each day. With a straightened spine, I welcome the new. With an open heart and mind, I am gifted with the now.
