the heartbeat of timeless symmetry

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As a child I had a secret place. Every day at sunset I visited a grove of birch trees surrounded by a hedge of sweet-smelling privet. At the center was a mound where I would lie down and listen to the steady rhythmic heartbeat of the earth. For seven years I performed this daily ritual; even in winter I could feel this pulse as though I were connected by a rootlike umbilicus to the dark core of the land. The grove faced west and formed a kind of kiva or womblike container. This enclosure had all the power of an ancient shrine; it was a place of dying and becoming. As the light intensified and left the sky awash in crimson flames, I learned a way of being in the world and in transition. Something within me changed as the earth underwent its own transfiguration and as the day’s activity gave way to the long, slow respiration of the night……..Valerie Andrews

wrangling with our own soul’s shape-shifting seeds is delicate……like long slender wildflower stalks….unable to decide if they’re better off picked and plucked and wooed into a vase in a sunny window or left to scrap it out by the side of the road, free and stalwart and brooding, reflecting light to the end of its days…..

Only by going alone in silence, without baggage, can one truly get into the heart of the wilderness. The spiritual eye sees not only rivers of water but of air. It sees the crystals of the rock in rapid sympathetic motion, giving enthusiastic obedience to the sun’s rays, then sinking back to rest in the night. The whole world is in motion to the center. I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I was really going in…..John Muir

feeling so small

With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony

And the deep power of joy

We see into the life of things.

….William Wordsworth

4 thoughts on “the heartbeat of timeless symmetry

  1. I wonder whether I say, ‘I love this’ too much, and yet I do.

    I grew up with just such a place as described in the first ‘telling’. It was the place I wandered to in the middle of the night (I suppose before I found words). Moonlight cut through the treetops and covered a jungle of grapevine, thick and carved as veins against the woods. I would climb and sit and breathe (I remember even now the breathing when the winds were cold and breath, blue). Leaning against the bark, I could hear the churning beneath, the steady drum of rivers long gone. I loved that place and have known many since (regardless of where I might be, I find those places – or perhaps they find me). Places where alone is not so very. Thank you, Blue. Always you remind us to home. ~ Love, Bobbie

    • I believe so deeply and wordlessly in those subtleties so fleeting and raw……they are easily missed and denied and downplayed…..they are the signs though…..that little voice that questions…..these are the real places, experiences and loves that truly define us…..this is where we live fully….I so honor your little nests of deep connection Bobbie….’the heartbeat of timeless symmetry’…..be….

  2. In every walk with nature on receives far more than he expects … John Muir. I could only imagine his experiences the day I fist ventured into Muir Woods. Yes, just light reflecting as we slowly fade away … Much light and growth for your day …

    • Emerson, Thoreau, Muir, Dillard and Giono…..we know and we struggle and we feed off the wild wind….we can pray for the gentleness to quiet us……sit awhile longer and fade into a sunset g.f.s….

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