Simple Gifts

"Simple Gifts"  copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, all rights reserved

We take much for granted.  Here in upstate New York we don't think "earthquake" when we feel things start to shake.  Our minds find all kinds of other reasons...that perhaps there is something wrong with us.  We're having an episode of some sort.  I was sitting and writing when things began to shake yesterday afternoon.  The house began to move.  I wondered if a particularly large truck had gone by...but it continued and I knew it was more than a truck.  It stopped before I figured it out.  And I went about my business. 

The earth beneath our feet is something, someone we take for granted.  A simple thing.  A beloved thing.  When simple stuff shifts and shakes, we'd better pay attention to the causes. 

Finding the sacred in the ordinary is not a new concept.  Brother Lawrence, a monk in the 16th century wrote a small book that has stood the test of time, still inspiring many seekers all these many years later.  From scrubbing pots and pans to hanging up clothes to dry, one can sense within those simple, daily tasks, a presence there.  One who is there in the doing and in the things themselves...trees and plants, pots, pans, children and the wild, uncontrollable way they can invade one's world.  The friends with whom you share a ride, or the young woman at the checkout line in the grocery store.  If I am feeling stressed and harried and "too busy" for such nonsense, I stop for a moment and breathe.  I breathe deeply and become aware of the environment around me.  It only takes a moment.  And my perspective shifts.

When the earth shifts beneath your feet...and there are so many ways that can happen in the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual dimensions...remember to breathe, let yourself remember where you are.  And know that you are never alone.  It is an invitation to remember the sacred in these simple gifts, that need us to pay attention to caring for them.   

The Walk: Part I

A map of the area...wish I'd had this for my walk!

It is interesting how memory gets erased or at least impeded from year to year.  The rain is falling today, as it does every April.  It is a cold rain and if one spent much time in it, it would feel like an icy rain.  There are piles of "to do" lists scattered around the room, but if you'll indulge me, I would like to take a little trip back in time.  About 13 years to be exact.  Thirteen years ago I came to upstate New York to stay with friends while I got back on my feet.  A relationship had ended in Oregon.  It was a sad ending, and the grief sat heavy in my chest.

The day was shaping up to be much as this one is as I slid out of bed and slipped into my sweat pants.  I remember those comfy red sweats.  I don't particularly remember the shirt I wore that day, but then that was salvageable at the end of the day.  Unlike the sweats.  I headed downstairs and out the door after a brief "good morning" to Sue, one of my oldest and dearest friends.  She was drinking coffee and making breakfast for the guys.  Steve, her husband and Peter, her 10 year old son.  Since my arrival a few days before, there had been much story telling and gales of laughter around the kitchen table.  It was good to be with friends during this transition.

Pulling up my hood and zipping my coat, I was ready for a walk down the road.  It had been my habit to walk 2 or 3 miles every day for as long as I could remember.  Walking was something that moving wouldn't change.  The scenery however had.  I missed the Oregon landscape, but upstate New York has it's own beauty.  So after walking the mile down the road and starting back, I noticed a path across a little meadow and into the woods.  I decided to take a shortcut back to the house.  The Catskill mountains which surrounded me in a breathtaking vista are part of the oldest mountain range on earth.   Steve had filled me in on the local geography of the place, and I loved the fact that my feet were walking this ancient landscape.  As these things passed through my thoughts, I was passing a lovely pond and then entering the woods.

The path was clear at first and I thought it headed in the right direction, but it wasn't long before the path disappeared.  I felt somewhat confident.  After all, this was all within a half mile of the house.  Of course two hours later, that was no longer the case!  Passing the same old ramshackle building for the fourth or fifth time, I finally accepted the reality that I was lost and scared to death, not to mention exhausted and hungry for breakfast.

It is definite progress after 13 years that I can tell this story without hyperventilating.  More tomorrow!

Walk Safely!