In the spiritual tradition of my Native American ancestors, the trees are known as the Standing People. They are the great and wise chiefs of the Green Nations. Their roots run deep into Mother Earth and their branches reach high toward Father Sky. They are deeply connected to both the physical and spiritual realms, wise and generous. I spent some time among them this morning seeking wisdom, peace, rest.
As I lay gazing upward at the quivering, multi-colored leaves, an occasional gust of wind would send the brightest ones spiraling down like dry rain to catch in my hair and caress my face. I tried to get a photo of one of these leaf showers, as it was an achingly beautiful sight, but it was a Zen moment that simply could not be captured.
Here is another view from my hammock instead.
I’ve been feeling generally stuck for some months now in several major areas of my life, desiring a big change, not knowing what to do or how to make myself feel better. Each small step I have managed forward seems overwhelmingly insignificant compared to the thousands more that must yet be walked. Lots of thinking going on in my mind these days about what is really important to me and how I want to live the second half of my life. A midlife crisis perhaps?
It must be time for the medicine wheel to turn… a new stage of life approaches. The Standing People are making this journey now also. They have many lessons for me, I think.