"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Friday, April 25, 2014

Patterns of Life

   

      All day I have chased the sound of running water, thinking a hose had been left on, or sprung a leak, money pouring out onto the ground.  I found nothing until this evening when I sat myself down on the porch swing and closed my eyes.  There it was again, coming from high above, not the sound of water but the first rustling song of Cottonwood leaves.  How in the world could I have not known that sound after only seven months gone. Each season takes us, body, mind and spirit, surrounding and saturating us with its own colors and scents, dulling our memories of days past.
     This winter was long, white and cold here on the prairie.  Spring came later than usual but is finally now among us, around us, filling the air with its unbelievable  perfume: Lilac, Wisteria, green grass and damp earth. All this color, this fragrance, this galloping life, fluttering leaf and waves of birdsong were here all those long winter months. Here but silent, tucked away, like Christmas decorations in a box in the attic.  Asleep, if you will allow that personification.
      All around us, year after year and day following day, the pattern presents itself for our observation and contemplation. The day/life begins and grows into blossom, reproduces itself, then stands for a while, fades and falls to the earth, to sleep for a time.  Then it begins again, over and over and over for all of our life and all time.  How in the world can we doubt that there is more life to come after we leave this life?  We sleep, we wait, we wake to the next life, whatever form that life may take. "Let those who have eyes to see, see. " It is right before our eyes.
       Some eggs may fall from the nest, young birds are often snatched in mid-air, some trees stand hundreds of years while others fall in the strong winds as saplings.  They sleep, they wait, they wake to their next life.  All their gifts, color, fragrance, songs, sleep with them, to awaken again with the warm rains of Spring and lift their faces to the sky.  

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