Looking Back, Looking On...

A milestone of sorts slipped quietly by this week, and I was surprised when I eventually remembered that there was such a thing. What in the round blue world...

It seems that this past week, on Wednesday, November 8th, I had been pottering about here in the realm of blog and posting for two whole years — two years of motley prose, thinking out loud and verbal meandering, two whole years of bad photography: sunrises and sunsets, light and darkness, falling leaves, wild orchids, wandering rivers, incised gorges, herons, winter birds, old trees, marshy shorelines and deep snow. Of my poetry, we shall say nothing.

Such milestones are perhaps unimportant in the greater scheme of things, but they are worth noting too. I found myself thinking this morning of the creature who wandered home from her office on a November day two years ago in dismayed possession of the tidings that her plummy but feverish position in a large downtown firm was being eliminated and her corporate career was coming to an end. That creature was baffled, despondent and more than a little scared, and she didn't have a clue what she would do next — she was clinging to the wreckage and trying to figure out what to do with herself after so many years of frenetic office activity and so little time for real thought.

Daring soul that she was, she decided to start a blog in order to instill a little creative something in the days before her - those future days loomed ominously before her, like dark storm clouds on the horizon.

When she thought about it, she realized that she would have lots of time for meditation, volunteer work, reading, crafts and gardening. She would get out her camera, start taking pictures again and see if she could still sketch, paint, collage and/or put words together. She would walk a little more slowly (surely a good thing at her age), be a little more observant and much more mindful. She would have long conversations with the Old Wild Mother. She would look up into trees and rocks, get down on her knees and peer deep into hedgerows. She would spend her days trying to see into the heart of things, the small incandescent wonders of which life on this beautiful earth is composed. With an open heart, she would embrace the wildness that had been a song in her blood and bones for so long.

I wish I could say that since that time, I have figured everything out or become enlightened, that I had turned into Minor White or Marc Chagall, garnered a Booker prize, discovered a new wild orchid, appeared on the cover of a prominent art magazine or been invited to perform the Elgar Cello Concerto at the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts. None of the aforementioned events has happened - not a single one of them, but I am enjoying this existence immensely, and the vibrant colors and grandeur of life amaze me every single day. I often wonder how I coped with so many years of stress and corporate politics, how I managed to survive for so many years without clear blue mindful days like this one. A loving nod to my resilient earlier self in passing...

Are there great changes ahead??? No, like my Kamakura Buddha out there among the fallen leaves, I think I shall just continue to potter along the way as I have been doing. Thank you for being here with me, for your listening and your comments, for your wisdom and humor, for your friendship. You are more wonderful than you know, and this morning I toast you with my favorite beverage, a large Irish mug of the finest Ceylon tea held high.