February 12, 2021
Something suddenly occurs that we’re not expecting. The occurrence ignites upon the scene of our lives. We may be left with wonder, confusion, consternation, frustration, anger, hurt, joy, gratitude, or a simple stunned silence with the brain trying to sort things out. The good, bad, ugly, and holy irrupt in such fashion. The bad and ugly linger and meander about sometimes protruding into the inner treasured secret gardens of repose and comfort. Healing is the salve. Many paths to this end. The good and holy spread light and possibility. Love being the vastness of difference between our manners relating to life. One violates and disrupts. The other renews and enlivens for the sake of all.
Many decades of dwelling with loved ones in and around our cabins on the North Shore of Lake Superior. I’ve canoed the lake for decades. Many times alone. One day out a ways on a relatively calm day a sudden explosion of wind shot straight down out of the sky. It hit directly on top of my canoe. Startled beyond words all the waves rippled directly outward. Wind paths rippling concentrically. A perfect circle for a perfect moment. Just a few hours before I had been reading in the Smithsonian Magazine about such vertical wind events. Surprising in person vs. reading about it. Not perplexing. BUT — very intriguing. I wondered upon which distant craggy rock shores might those ripples have landed? Prior to a compass rose for guidance there was the wind rose. Perhaps someday as I learn to follow the wind rose, I’ll visit such distant shores. A mere moment later: silence and still waters.
A few years later. Alone in the canoe. Shore distanced well astern. A camera sitting idle. Sunrise’s traces filling the dome above piercing the lake water beneath. The lake and sky were coming alive out of nighttime’s slumber. Sky with thin whisps of clouds. Water’s darkness becoming illumined. Stillness. Coolness’ nighttime grip loosened as air’s warm currents occasioned irregular visits in swirls around the canoe. Suddenly the realization that the sky and reflection of the sky in the super clear cold still waters way out on the lake had no boundary. Suspended no longer just on water. Sensation of floating in air. Above, below, within — no longer separate. Eyes seeing. Realizing the many connections to life not lived in the lane of all things, people, and nature being separate. Here, along the pathways writ by wind upon the still waters at dawn —I saw trails of glory. Sacred Source within and between all. Enlivening us. We can follow such wind trails. Follow the wind rose and you’ll always be on a journey! Awe truly is the root of all religious or spiritual composure. Wonder re-composes us as we simply remain open.
Jesus on a mountain. Transfigured. Peter, James, and John trying to place, define, and comprehend as in Mark’s gospel Chapter 9. Shhhhh. The three were told not tell anyone. For all of us enlarging experiences re-root us freshly often unexpectedly. Awe and wonder need to percolate and seep into all crevices — openings of the heart to life. Light and possibilities for “pathways writ by wind upon the still waters” all reveal the good and holy. Transformed. Transfigured. Enlivened. What’ startling and enlivening lies sewn into the roots of every person’s being and in the vaults of our highest most encompassing aspirations. Roots and such vaults One with Source. This encompassing glory reveals the wind rose. Guiding. Encouraging. Blessing. This same wind moving across the waters at creation is still seeking life’s fulfillment. Stretched. We flex. We find resilience and renewal. Shhhh!! Don’t be too quick to grasp and define what quickens and births new life.