In the Soft Hills of Marin

(c)1996

In the soft hills of Marin

...there are wooded places as serene as a chapel

where the water is sweet, and the air is scented with redwood, cedar, and moss

The brooks that flow laugh like children

and deer have worn trails that weave through the massive ferns

In times disquieted, I'd retreat to those woods, taking my heart there as an offering

asking for the spirit of that place to give it rest

Often I would stay through the summer's evenings, listening to the voices of the forest as they conversed in nature's many tongues

I would listen for wordless wisdom, spoken in the groaning of an old tree, or the song of the passing hummingbird

The night would fall so softly, without threat of harm or malevolence in it's sheltering dark

- without threat of harm..

Confusion can't hold sway for long, when taking the counsel of the glen

and the darkness there was a womb, that comforted and nourished

The enfolding trees were dense as wool, and left the moonlight to dance on upper limbs

- not passing to the forest floor; not intruding on the slumbering glades

Sitting there, wrapped in the forest's mothering arms, I pondered my place

and found it there amongst the saplings, sprouting up from the decay of fallen parents

I found in the tumbling water of those gentle brooks a likeness of myself - not in my reflection, but in it's ever-traveling course

One such evening I saw a single star, revealed through the forest canopy

as if it were the only one in the sky

(for the darkness of the forest ceiling merges into the night sky)

and I thought about the light of that one star, reaching me now as it dashed across the universe

And I thought about perspective -

of how from a certain place in this great universe, that light has not yet shone

but the emanation of it, from where I now viewed, was as ancient as all imagining

Looking back into the reaches of time

I knew that I was brother to that light, not residing here; not a slave to this time, place, or dimension

I knew that I was a fellow traveler

not yet here from some perspectives, already gone from others

I knew that I was a changeling, taking this form only for an instant, as I passed through this momentary place

And the trees whispered their approval, and the forest was hushed in awe of God

I was not disquieted any longer

feeling comfort in my smallness, and humbled by my awakening

Those trees that loved me so, never questioned their being

They never asked if their bark was too thick, or their limbs too spindly

They came with no doubts, troubles or disturbances

They came as trees, happy to be so, loving the sun, the wind, the earth that held them firm

knowing perfectly how to simply be a tree

not wishing to be a bird, nor complaining that they were not the stalwart rocks

If they suffered a lightening strike that bent their limbs, or changed the course of their approach skyward

they were no less a tree

- no less...

I thought of the questions that I asked of God, insulting God with thoughts of my imperfection

I thought of all I aspired to be, because of what I thought I never was

and of the time passing like that spear of light

vanishing in a breath

And I knew that I was wasting the opportunity, to be perfectly who I was

I sat as the sun promised to rise, not yet showing itself above the unseen horizon

and I thanked the night, and those gentle woods, for giving me their wisdom, and showing me a path to God

I stretched, and began to walk in the hazy dawn

back down that well worn trail

feeling more than when I came

~Steve