An
owl sat again watching the highway. Where had he or she been all this time? You
never know, as they say, what you ‘got’ until they take it away. Such gracefulness
to wait there in the tree that reached so far, a tree like a spiritual aspirant,
up and up until it disappeared in the clouds, in another realm, in God. And
what of the owl? Surely the owl was the guru, the Buddha, the Krishna, the
Christ, watching it all, helping, but also remaining still, centred in Being
and as Being itself. Try and tell it to the transport truck driver, though,
against odds, I can if given the chance. So the owl was there, and in the
distance some guard dog waited in verdant fields of I don’t know what. As for
us, - we were on the move, and kept at it.
In
the larger forests and fields the colors were yellow for the most part. This was
due to the leaves, some affixed to branches, others and most others, fallen. We
go up a series of hills. Sometimes the wind comes through there, the wind like
a spirit, and we stop and listen and feel as the leaves fall from branches like
rain or a weird piece of installation art. I once briefly met an installation
artist, and she was tall with short hair, older, calm, - but I was busy and had
to keep on. She asked a question about Alan Watts, but I had to go I think, and
so I went, moving with some internal spiritual or instinctual prompting. She
did manage to explain the term, Installation Art, but its all, to use a cliché,
Greek to me, as I don’t go around artists or the like. So the hue, mostly
yellow, - brought a nice vitality somehow and seemed to vibrate at a good if
not high level. We moved along…
That
little chipmunk, oh, I felt bad for him. One could see right away that he had
been unbothered and free for so long, playing there. Leave it to us, who go the
extra mile or half mile quite literally into unknown territory and off the
paths, - to upset him in his land of innocence and joy. I think when he saw us
it was quite a startle that was given. Running up a tree, so nonplussed was he that a movement was made that could have been a
fatal error in judgement, as he ran back down the tree to exchange it for another
one, which meant he was on the ground for a few feet. I wished him the best,
and he made it. Up the next tree. I could see he was small, inexperienced,
working purely from fear. We left him there, alive and watching us who surely
were monsters from a waking nightmare.
Down
some more, there was a large tree that had fallen, and I realized that it was
not that the root systems were so grand, but that it was in fact three or four
trees that had fallen together. Moss, logs, little insects and other things
were around there. It all made for a great painting or picture or poem if
someone was so inclined. However, there is hardly anybody around there. Slowly,
slowly, we went past, playfully, joyously if even sometimes with a wet shoe and
sock, - and began to make our way out. The world, with its distinctly lower vibrations,
ways, people and plans, waited. But we had to re-enter it. We had to. That was
for then our karma. It was not a hard karma, but what I would call a soft or
light one, but it was a karma nevertheless. Over the outside summit we went and
then down to the regular path and then lot mixed with gravel and dirt. Into the
vehicle and off to join the fray, just like everyone else, trying to continue our day, hoping to make our way.
Maybe
the owl is helping us also.
Surely
it is.
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