Silence. Ice laden trees curl up with new soft snow keeping all in its ‘round, asleep. Magic? Possibly. Winter has been wily and unpredictable in Southern Ontario. Coming and going like birds at the feeder on a below zero day. Climate change or natural phenomenon? Perhaps a little of both. Is it not often a little of both?
A little divine, a little human. A little right, a little wrong. Sun bursts through cloud storms. Too much greed not enough love. What is the key here? What are we sojourning to discover in our search for balance? Maybe it’s not about balance at all. Do trees think of balance? Chickadees, kitty-cats, apple blossoms, elephants? They simply are. Balance without description or definition. Balance creating all that is whole, one and inseparable. In balance everything comes together. Sameness and differences collide becoming a unique pattern of fusion.
Universe.
Galaxy.
Earth.
Life.
You.
Me.
Inseparable, indescribable, the wonder of beingness.
Silence. Under the laden forest where I walk, it is all here. You, me, life, everything. The daunting truth that we remain so disconnected eludes.
Harp seals struggle to find safe places to birth and nurture their young as winter ice disappears.
Polar bears become stranded and starve as their sea-ice habitat decreases. The Indigenous People of my country living on reserves go too often without basic care.
In the forest that wraps around my home is a simple truth.
We are connected.
We all spill out from the same seed, the same DNA.
Our ignorance, greed and attachment does not change that we are of the same Mother.
We share a womb. Together and unique. A stirring of matter and energy that coalesces and finds space for everything.
My cat Joey ponders simply that today she sees the squirrels trying to nudge out chickadees from the feeder. She is fed and content. Puffed up waiting for the wood stove to bring warmth. She doesn’t think about balance, or ice flows, or who will provide for her if she is hurt. She is complete.
And somewhere in the recesses of my wanting, torn and resilient heart, so am I and so are you.
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About the author: Patti Armstrong lives wild and quiet in the middle of a forest with creatures and green things and darkness, with lots of space for being, dreaming, friends and whatever comes up the drive.
