The Waltz in the Woods
March 19, 2013 § 31 Comments
Cold and gray this morning. The storm has moved on.
I sit at the wall of glass looking into the pine forest that encircles my home along the southern coast. I hear only the sound of the coffee brewing and the faint clicks from the keyboard as I write these words.
Right now the wind from the tail end of the storm is moving through the tall pines. Each tree moves rhythmically with the wind, first bending to the wind’s will and then swaying back to its upright posture. Yielding just enough to accommodate the gusts and then returning to its centered, upright way.
The wind ceases. The dance ends. The trees are nearly still now, just quivering a bit in the soft breeze that remains.
And then the wind comes up. The dance commences again.
This cycle repeats- still, then quivering, and then swaying- a choreography of wondrous and hypnotic beauty.
I have not written anything for more than two weeks. I have thought of writing every day. And every day I somehow wasn’t able to write- too busy, the idea for the writing unworthy, whatever.
But this morning, I didn’t think about writing, I just sat here and looked out the window. Wrote what I felt and what I saw.
Nature always models the way. Giving up resistance, the tree bends to the wind. But when the wind passes, she returns naturally to her centered existence.
The winds took me away because I resisted, I tried to think my way out. But when I ceased fighting those winds, when I stopped thinking about what I had to do, I found myself again- here, at the window, watching the waltz in the woods.