This has been a week, alright!
And what I’ve learned, again, in the process is that we can be transformed from holey to holy, from fragmented to peaceful, in the unexpected whiff of sweetness in the air.
Walking on an unpaved road with the forest on my left, I was deep in thought:
worried about unseemly acts by fearful people in these trying times.
anxious about outcomes.
distracted from personal holy undertakings in the face of others’ profane undertakings.
struggling to find compassion.
working to yank myself out of dichotomies, polarizations, and unilaterally-unkind judgments.
seeking nuance as a refuge from solidities.
After a truck passed by, with its outpouring of steam and stench, I held my breath. Refused to breathe in what felt unhealthy. As it all dissipated, I took a large inhale of fresh morning air and quite strikingly the lovely, candy-like scent filled my nostrils…and my being.
I looked for the source of the refreshing smell, but there are no native flowers in bloom in this forest in November and no other plant, animal, or human-made indicator of “sweet” that I could discern in my immediate area.
So I held the scent, breathing it in deeply and allowing its mystery to contain and consume me. I began to notice the fir trees, now standing out with their deciduous neighbors naked of leaves. The sky called me and I glanced up, seeing a collage of blue, green, tan weaving in and out of view. I remembered the vivid pink of a surprise mountain sunrise over the weekend after a persistent rainstorm had let up. My heart felt the lively music that I had helped create during our handbells rehearsal last night. My mind roamed through creative projects I long to develop even as my eyes, heart, legs embraced the path before me. In essence, I moved in - that single inhalation – from my head down to my body, my heart, integrity, passion, and compassion.
As I paused upon reaching the trailhead, I heard a woodpecker searching for food high above me. He made himself apparent, big pileated that he was, and I smiled upward at him as his red crest flashed in the boughs-filtered sunlight on the tree trunk.
These are the small and large miracles that took me from small, holey, agitated, and frayed to a grace-given holy peace.
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2019 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
