Two things strike my mind as I approach the journal this morning. First, I note the continued stillness. The recent mornings have been particularly beautiful. Yet, for the past five or six days, the uniqueness rests in the calm; there is no breeze. The early morning serenity of the space is almost disturbing. It is bizarre to consider “calm,” “stillness” and “serenity” disturbing. Yet, my history here reminds me that of the commonplace winds from the northwest and northeast. To wake up and experience “no wind” is extraordinary.
In the stillness, I have noticed a change in the feeding pattern of the birds. When I first arrived home, the flocks of birds were relentless. The scene reminded me of the Hitchcock movie, The Birds. Yesterday and today, the pattern morphed to fewer birds at a time and relatively long periods where no birds are visible. My mind ponders what may have caused this change in behavior.
Of course, I initially considered what I was doing that would cause the change. My routine has remained fairly constant, even with the different time I set out the seeds in the morning. “Are the birds that fickle that the time is important?” I muse. Slowly, the awareness grows that perhaps, “It’s not all about me.” Perhaps, the environment is changing.
The maples buds have burst and the new leaves are half-way unfolded. The new-green lace covers birch trees, especially those groves away from the lakeside. Most of the bushes have put on their spring cloaks. Yes, spring has arrived here. With spring, Mother Nature is providing an abundant feast, a feast that I cannot match.
So I muse about layers of reality and the limits of our biologically-based human perception. Our concepts of time and movement are contained within our own biological clock and sense of movement. The stillness of the morning is full of movement, such as the unfolding of leaves. Human are so attentive to their kinesthetic sense and our rapid movement that we find great difficulty in slowing down to notice movements that can take hours, days and months. Yet when we “go against our nature,” we have insights into an unseen universe.
Tags: Crosslake, Crosslake cabin, Minnesota, Personal journal
