Sunday, May 13, 2007 at 1:01am
To be embraced
Column: Our Place in the Universe
This spot I've only ever shared alone. One evening that changed. I was sitting on the bench, a green plastic bench that is much more comfortable than it sounds. It was dark already, darker still under the overlapping branches of the two Japanese maples that embrace the seat. I planted the trees 16 years ago at the bottom of the slope in our yard, 10 feet apart with the intention that the bench would go between them, to be guarded from the sun and prying eyes.
Leaning into the crook of the arm, I can look up through the branches now, through the multi-layers of leaves, aware of the hundreds (or is it thousands) of shades of green that exist in this world. There is one spot, heart-shaped, through which the brilliant blue sky shines, or, as on this night, the lighter gray opalescent sky illuminated behind the darker leaves.
It had just finished raining, so the air was fresh and just a bit cooler than the preceding day had been. Do you know that smell that speaks of fertile soil and sparkling cleanliness? The one that fills your lungs with a newness that makes you believe and hope in the moment as well as in the future? Only a human explores these kinds of feelings, I thought, as I sat between my two solid sentinels.
They have watched over me through years of diverse feelings and weather, responding to both in the same unyielding manner, without judgment or opinion, knowing clearly what they have to give, and bestowing it unconditionally. I was grateful for their presence, as I shared the night with them.
I listened for sounds and found them noticeably absent. The birds were already in their nests, hunkering down for the night. The crickets haven't begun their seasonal chirping. I closed my eyes and heard the rustle of leaves in the soft breeze and an occasional drip, drip of water from above. Then I heard footsteps.
He never came out while I was in this particular spot, preferring to let me find my own peace. And that aloneness has been good and necessary. Patience and faith, Anne Morrow Lindbergh counseled. One should be empty and open, waiting for a gift from the creation embracing us.
"It is not the desert island nor the stony wilderness that cuts you from the people you love. It is the wilderness in the mind, the desert wastes in the heart through which one wanders lost and a stranger. When one is a stranger to oneself, then one is estranged from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others."
In fact, it has been these trees that have grounded me and taught me to love, taught me the importance of the unmistakable openness of embrace, of acceptance, of patience. There I was sitting, waiting, open to receive the night's gift, when he came and sat beside me taking my hand. The trees enveloped us in the darkness as I was enfolded in his arms.
The dark, dampness of the night encased us as love rippled out, finally exploding into lights that made me think the stars had come out. But no, we were lying on the moist grass embraced in the arms of our Mother. Above us were the intertwined branches, caressing each other, reaching to touch the darkling sky.
So this was the gift that the night and trees were giving, the lessons of openness and patience fulfilled. Learning from the Earth's ability to nourish me, and the Universe's faith in my potential created a connection apparent in an unconditional embrace. My heart reaches, even now, to thank the Beloved.
"My God, You have filled my body and soul with Your gifts.
Now what nectar of mine do You want to drink?
The beauty of Your creation is painted in my interior as a colorful voice.
Your love, O Lord, intermingling with it, has awakened all my songs.
You see Yourself, in some delightful way, portrayed within me
because You have given Yourself to me."
— Rabindranath Tagore
— — —
Anne E. Ulvestad is a free-lance writer residing in Maryland. She has her masters in earth literacy, and is available for public lectures and group presentations and rituals on Spirituality and the Environment. Anne can be reached at {email anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com}anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Anne E. Ulvestad
Leaning into the crook of the arm, I can look up through the branches now, through the multi-layers of leaves, aware of the hundreds (or is it thousands) of shades of green that exist in this world. There is one spot, heart-shaped, through which the brilliant blue sky shines, or, as on this night, the lighter gray opalescent sky illuminated behind the darker leaves.
It had just finished raining, so the air was fresh and just a bit cooler than the preceding day had been. Do you know that smell that speaks of fertile soil and sparkling cleanliness? The one that fills your lungs with a newness that makes you believe and hope in the moment as well as in the future? Only a human explores these kinds of feelings, I thought, as I sat between my two solid sentinels.
They have watched over me through years of diverse feelings and weather, responding to both in the same unyielding manner, without judgment or opinion, knowing clearly what they have to give, and bestowing it unconditionally. I was grateful for their presence, as I shared the night with them.
I listened for sounds and found them noticeably absent. The birds were already in their nests, hunkering down for the night. The crickets haven't begun their seasonal chirping. I closed my eyes and heard the rustle of leaves in the soft breeze and an occasional drip, drip of water from above. Then I heard footsteps.
He never came out while I was in this particular spot, preferring to let me find my own peace. And that aloneness has been good and necessary. Patience and faith, Anne Morrow Lindbergh counseled. One should be empty and open, waiting for a gift from the creation embracing us.
"It is not the desert island nor the stony wilderness that cuts you from the people you love. It is the wilderness in the mind, the desert wastes in the heart through which one wanders lost and a stranger. When one is a stranger to oneself, then one is estranged from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others."
In fact, it has been these trees that have grounded me and taught me to love, taught me the importance of the unmistakable openness of embrace, of acceptance, of patience. There I was sitting, waiting, open to receive the night's gift, when he came and sat beside me taking my hand. The trees enveloped us in the darkness as I was enfolded in his arms.
The dark, dampness of the night encased us as love rippled out, finally exploding into lights that made me think the stars had come out. But no, we were lying on the moist grass embraced in the arms of our Mother. Above us were the intertwined branches, caressing each other, reaching to touch the darkling sky.
So this was the gift that the night and trees were giving, the lessons of openness and patience fulfilled. Learning from the Earth's ability to nourish me, and the Universe's faith in my potential created a connection apparent in an unconditional embrace. My heart reaches, even now, to thank the Beloved.
"My God, You have filled my body and soul with Your gifts.
Now what nectar of mine do You want to drink?
The beauty of Your creation is painted in my interior as a colorful voice.
Your love, O Lord, intermingling with it, has awakened all my songs.
You see Yourself, in some delightful way, portrayed within me
because You have given Yourself to me."
— Rabindranath Tagore
— — —
Anne E. Ulvestad is a free-lance writer residing in Maryland. She has her masters in earth literacy, and is available for public lectures and group presentations and rituals on Spirituality and the Environment. Anne can be reached at {email anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com}anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Anne E. Ulvestad