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Archive for March, 2018

It’s Sunday morning. I’mriver2 sitting in my kitchen at the old rural school desk that is tucked in between the refrigerator and the corner cupboard. I’m drinking coffee and practicing being present, being aware. It helps that I’m on my 3rd cup of coffee! I’m trying to get back into a daily spiritual practice, and, am doing so, in bits and spurts. I’m reminded of what Yoda said, “Do or do not. There is no try.” Hmmmm. I breathe slowly, in and out, and notice what I am seeing.

Out my window is Sand Creek, which is just visible if I stand up and peer over the fence.  I see a red squirrel racing from limb to limb. Surely she has had more coffee than me thissqauirrel6 morning! I keep losing her among the limbs, but then she stops and investigates something. Is the sap starting to seep out of the Maple Tree? And do squirrels like it?

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Across the river I can see a pair of gray squirrels chasing each other up into the highest limbs of the cedar tree, then leaping into an old willow, going round and round the trunk, then disappearing into the depths of a snowbank. Up they pop. Off they go again!

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Once summer day Dan and I were sitting on the deck, half way down the river bank, when we heard a PLOP.  There in the middle of the creek was a squirrel which hadn’t quite made the leap from limb to spreading limb from one side of the riverbank to the other. Learned something new that day! Squirrels CAN swim.

I stare up into the trees and imagine what it will be like in a few months, when the leaves will nearly block the view of the houses that are nestled onto the opposite river bank. In summer it is almost like we are living on the edge of the forest. That thought leads me to thoughts of the forest, and then, as thoughts often do, this one turns into contemplation. Pondering. Thinking about how the interweaving branches of the trees, those that allow squirrels to travel across the forest and even over the river, never touching the ground, are a great metaphor for the connections that we make in life.

I take up my pencil and write this, which, now, I offer to you.

I imagine myself as a tree, standing in the woods. You. Yes, you. You are one of the trees in that interlocking forest of my life …  branches touching, weaving together to create a network of relationships. Challenging. Supporting. Protecting. Inspiring. Applauding. Critiquing. Reacting. Denying. Questioning. Bristling. Loving. Pondering. Caring. Growing. Sharing stories. Apart. Separate. Yet together, grounded in the same earth, breathing the same air, drinking the same water, being shone on by the same sun. I can’t imagine being a single tree, standing alone in the meadow or on a mountaintop. I am thankful to be one tree in a forest full of trees with branches that connect with mine.

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