The river flows with ups and down, over rocks and through tranquil meadows. The path get steep and rocky, gray and harsh. Whether by the river or in the stony heights, flowers bloom. Walk slowly, be present, observe. Beauty exists in the harshest of journeys. The end-of- season-flowers pictured here were found up the steep gray path above. They were blooming when those on the lower trails had faded.
I always want to go on, to keep climbing. On this trail above Ouzel Lake in RMNP, we would turn around. That was the plan. We wanted to know how it looked above our turn to the lake. How much I want to know what's next on the path of life, to take a look. And when I move ahead, fear makes me stop, hold on to where I know what's there, whether or not it's a good place to be.
I watch the river winding into the woods and wonder how much of the water is lost in the journey. How much of life runs through my fingers when I'm imaging another time. I want to join the river and ride to its end, as if the water would make the trip easier, soften the rocks along the path.
And when, like today, I realize that the discoveries in the darkness, those of my darkest parts, are the ones I have needed for wholeness, I recognize the transforming power of the rocky, strenuous path. When I think of oneness with all living things, it is easy to think only of the beauty. But that is only part of our human, living mess. We are one with all of humanity, including those parts that can and do participate in evil. And it is when with humility, I recognize that my potential for evil is as great as my potential for good, I can allow the Divine Presence to lead my whole self into whatever is next on my path. I rejoice in becoming.
Those harsh peaks have majesty. They are encompassing. When I stay with my harsh days, the revelations are unexpected. Awareness that brightens and lightens--the red and white of the flowers