There are two very large maple trees on the north side of the house. They are a perfect distance apart for a large hammock. When I lay in the hammock (a rare occasion) and look up through the layers of woody arms and fingers of green leaves, and masses of yellow flowers that turn to propeller shaped seeds, and past that into the deep azure of the sky, with my ears full of the hum of the thousands of bees finding sustenance in each tiny flower, I get quiet for a moment. The history of a place, the rhythms of time, and nature, and seasons, come crashing in as awareness of this time, in this place.
Around the base of the tree are hundreds of maple seedlings with a biological urge to survive and become something. But they all live in the shadow of the big trees. I can see myself in each of these arbor offspring. All the parts of myself that ran out into the world to be fulfilled. For this life time has been a daily unfolding of all of my dreams come true.
Dreams of partnership that evolved in loving ways for over fifteen thousand days. The circle of children and friendships that blended into family, too. A fine collection of passions, I did fight for, to make my own, in my own way. Names of stars, names of plants, names of painters and poets, names of ancient places covered with ash and mud, names of tribes, names of colors, names of ancestry, names of perfumes, names of ways to heal and nurture. Dreams that have
been written down to show my progress.
There is a subtleness that comes with turning inside for truth. Truth be known, by becoming subtle. I am here to remind anyone who will listen. We are all beautiful dreams coming true.
