It's been another adventurous week following my last Sunday post on unburdening yourself! This week, here in the Eaton Fire aftermath, the river of life flowed as rivers of mud. Today, public works trucks are on canyon roads clearing village streets of the mud flow, rocks, and debris that erupted from last Thursdays severe rain storm. Earlier this past week, before the storm began, the city and county alert systems sent flood warnings across communities that had endured the recent fires, with necessary reminders for storm preparation. Midweek, those areas that were vulnerable to mud or landslides were alerted of possible--turning into immediate--evacuation. So I left the area with family and followed the protocols.
It is not an easy thing to simply drop it all, grab the packed bags and go--especially when you have just settled back in after fire evacuation. Then again, it is not an easy thing for first responders to rescue flooded communities. I followed the news of the mud online and Friday evening I returned. Thankfully, all was well with home for us, but mudflow in some areas was severe. On the drive back, I was processing all that I had learned about the mountain above us, burn scars, and the section maps that allow predictions of the flow across the slopes. When we re-entered the city, I stared at the mountain that crowns the end of the main boulevard, and the darkening clouds above it. Then I mused to those with me, "I am seeing the mountain very differently now. It used to be so lovely, but it feels different now...It seems...Ominous."
The unsettled image of the mountain hung around though unloading and unpacking. It lingered, until I finally could sit in meditation. In the quiet, I realized that underneath the events of the new year, 2025 is the pressure of climate change. That thought floated around in my psyche a bit with fragments of ideas about adaptation; certainly the adaptation necessary for living near the coast and mountainous terrain. Then a line popped clearly into my mind: "We sit together, the mountain and me, until only the mountain remains." It's always a bit of a shock, when a clear inner voice speaks! I let go to a larger field past the reasoning, problem solving mind that had been at work with its "analysis". Still, I started to scan my memory briefly to come up with the author, "Lao Tzu?" I questioned, "no, Han Shan? no...but there's more...". I gave up again, and sat with my mountain. The true Life came into focus, and with it Peace, and a certainty of living at the right time, and in the right place, as life goes though its changes. Underneath, I felt only Love.
Later, I looked up the full quote:
The birds have vanished down the sky.
Now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains. Li Po, Tang Dynasty
What is Life whispering to you today, as you go through your changes? (Susan Nettleton)
for poetry: https://wordsfortheyear.com/.../ten-thousand-flowers-in.../ https://www.poetryfoundation.org/.../the-poem-that-took... https://mypoeticside.com/show-classic-poem-2074