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Monday, November 1, 2010

Perspective

I take a walk in the woods to clear my head. Hoping that for an hour, time won't matter. I find a tree and lay under it, smelling the sweetness of the soft flowered grass. There is a lake and I hear geese splash, refreshing themselves in between lags of their long journey. Highlights of red, yellow and orange-the colors of autumn-shimmer on the lake's glassy surface. The tree I'm under is profound, its power shown by the thickness of it's core and the length of it's limbs; cradled by blue sky. The sun radiates through its branches, leaving each leaf illuminated-shinning in their glory.

I'm in a wide-open space. Vulnerable to what Mother Nature brings, but I feel safe. Safer then when I'm in my home with ceilings, walls and a locked door. The landscape is expansive and I'm just one amidst the trees and animals living here. I'm an unseen visitor, seeking refuge in the natural world. Somehow though, I feel I am a part of the land surrounding me.

I'm envious of the squirrels that jump in the tree on the branches above. They have no clothes, no money, no job, no refrigerator or stove and no savings account. They live with freedom. Their home is the tree, so they do not worry.

Chirping echoes through the tree and resonates in me sounds of a lullaby heard long ago. I am calm and my breath is deep. My eyes lull shut by the power of the warm sun. I hear the rustling of leaves, but my attention shifts towards a dream. In my dream, I am a child again lying on summers grass under a tree.


My eyes flit open. They squint towards my wrist, but I have no watch. I look at the tree branches-leaves illuminated-seeing something that wasn't there before I dreamed. Something beautiful. Something I'd seen years ago. My body does not move, so I stare through the trees watching it. Sensing its power, hearing its laughter, feeling its love-it's familiar. My senses form it's shape and my memories tell me what it is.

A watermark, I'm told is always there but not seen until studied in the light. It's imprinted on documents to prove their authenticity. It validates dollars, passports and identifies counterfeit. In this case, it's the essence of a human being. In this moment, I am seeing my watermark, when the world is still and I am alone. It has been years.

I gather my belongings to leave. As I walk away, I look up and see my watermark still there radiating among the illuminated leaves. Someone whispers, "Stop hiding it." I turn towards the whisper; my hat blows off in the wind. No one is there.

I feel the corners of my mouth turn up as I look towards the sky. Staring at birds flying in the blue space, I realize that I must live defined by my watermark. I need to see it each day, hear its wisdom and trust in its abilities-lending myself to it's power. I must submit...

...because it is the essence of me and where the One that created me resides.