Reflections

About five years ago I had the privilege of witnessing a pod of humpback whales in Alaska.  They were bubble feeding which is this marvelous choreographed effort, where the whales swim in a circle to create bubbles and disorient a school of fish.  Then the whales dive down deep and then come straight back up out of the water with mouths wide open catching a mouthful of fish.  Watching them dive and rise I felt their longing and was lost in their beauty. Last week I read a post at Velveteen Rabbi about embodied trust which has lingered in my imagination. 

Sunflower What sower walked over the earth, which hands sowed our inward seeds of fire? they went out from his fists like rainbow curves to frozen earth, young loam, hot sand, they will sleep there greedily, and drink up our lives and explode it into pieces for the sake of a sunflower that you haven’t seen or a thistle head or a chrysanthemum. Let the young rain of tears come. Let the calm hands of grief come. It’s not all as evil as you think. -Rolf Jacobsen, translated by Robert Bly, from Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart  

Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the way is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road– Only wakes upon the sea. Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada más; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Al andar se hace camino, y al volver la vista atrás se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar. -Antonio