A Solitary Interlude

The other day I paused in the middle of my walk along Mayde Creek to sit on a concrete, square pipe jutting out from the side of the retaining wall at the end of the creek. The walking path was about 6’ above me and the surface of the water was about 4’ below me.  It was one of those gloriously sunny days with a balmy light breeze.  

When I first climbed down and onto the pipe, there was a flurry of water-plunking sounds, then stillness by the time I got to the edge of the pipe. 

The water level was very low due to the recent drought, so the reservoir was choked with plant life and literally hundreds of plastic and styrofoam bottles/cups, a couple of small footballs, a baseball and assorted other detritus fighting for space. 

At first I was indignant at the Immature Unconsciousness of Some People, planning a rather self-righteous campaign to clean up this abused piece of my world.  

So I sat with it awhile. And I breathed. And I sat and soaked in the vibes – all of the vibes – the rash of morning glory vines vibrant with purple flowers, the sound of cars rushing by, the feel of the breeze on my skin,  the smell of raw organic gases, the lush green of profuse vegetation, egrets flying across the creek, and little tiny water-things making rippling circles on the slough’s surface – life in its burgeoning, relentless intentionality.

A lot like my mind – amidst my own unconscious debris (automatic reactions, fear-driven beliefs, worn-out assumptions, etc.), my will and my spirit still seek the sun, the light of truth, the heart-borne desire to become who I AM and to make a difference.