windows to the soul

I’m surprised to see the white morning glories survived the storm last night. They were the first thing I noticed yesterday in the early morning light and humid heat of the day. Everywhere I looked in the open fields leading up to the trail entrance I could see these shining white beacons, as if night lights that hadn’t been turned off yet. Not clumps of them like you might see on a vine climbing a trellis, but solitary blossoms, like windows to the soul of the earth.

The rain last night cooled things off and it is a very different feel on the trail this morning. The still calm of yesterday has been replaced with the insistent sound of rapidly moving water. Following the rejuvenated brook, my pace quickens. Walking much faster than I normally do forces me to focus on the still point inside of me deep in my belly. This allows for a different kind of attention to where I am on the trail, one that includes the experience of days prior and an opening to days ahead. Once there I can flow forward and backwards seamlessly, my mind free to wander to the light coming though a section of trees as if a stained glass window,


and to the laser like light framed through an opening to illuminate intimate space within.


I realize that only seeing the light from outside as the source of illuminating what is sacred inside is as limiting as just moving in one direction. What if? What of the light inside that needs to shine out? Where is the window that such a light moves through?  What is that light illuminating? With such questions now pulsing though my body at the rapid pace I am moving to, I pass a tree with the most unusual opening. It stops me in my tracks, so beautiful even if considered a disfigurement.


It is as if the thick protective skin of the wood has been peeled back and framed in a way to make a window to the soul of the tree. I imagine the light of this tree coming through to shine on me. And then begin to notice these windows in trees all along this particular stretch of the path, all the while scanning for the place in me that I can feel light living inside; where the window to my soul is most undefended.

Eventually we are back at the edge of the rapidly moving water. Nora stops for just a moment for me to fully take in the magnificent light coming from her, smile…


And just as we approach the exit, I notice an old soul perched on the bank, skin knobby and marked with age. It is a shock to discover that not only is there an opening to the inside, but that the inside is now completely barren and vulnerable. Her window has become an invitation for the light to come inside, with the promise that the light inside will be there to meet it…


Walking out of the forest, the light of the earth shining out through the little white gems everywhere is now palpable…


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