A young family walks on the remains of an old mossing road
along the
rugged cape of the Island. The red earth beside their feet is slowly
giving way to new territory; to sea, to sand, to rocky shore, to
expansive sky.
It is a gentle, achingly beautiful scene.
They stop and
sit on the now fading grass, the broken edge where
land meets the wondrous sky. Courageously, lovingly, together they sit peacefully
with the difficult knowledge that the very ground they sit upon will soon give way.
Trusting in the shared goodness of their own hearts they
have the wisdom to realize,
wonderfully realize, the utter import of drinking in the view from the vantage point available to them; the difficult reality of their here and now.
And so, instead of falling off the edge of much that is so large and challenging,
they choose to fall into it; to quietly sit and touch the small, soft clusters of what remains of late summer's delicate beauty,
pearly everlasting, recognizing that there is strength in togetherness.
Reaching out they pick a bayberry leaf, knowing that in gently holding
it in the warmth of the palm of their hands, it will release its own
sweet fragrance.
They
know that they too are being held and guided.
They
cast a sweeping glance out over a windswept sea on the seeming eve of
wintertime
because they know that this can do a soul good. They rest in the
fragile knowledge that by themselves they can never take in the enormity of it
all, nor alone do they have to. Watching in wonder they see bright white
gannets plummet intentionally to frigid depths
no one wants to enter in mid autumn. They smile and laugh as the
gannets rise back up wet with splendor from the belly of the giving sea.
They know well that it is in giving of them-selves that they receive
and that it takes opening their hearts wider than
they ever thought possible to fully receive the greatest gifts.
Quietly
they remember the gentle caress of summertime waves lapping on little
bare toes on wet sand. Good things do truly come in small packages.
Bravely,
so bravely, they wonder the why's and how's of life that sometimes are
too big to wonder and still somehow they manage to keep breathing
deeply. They know the answer to much lies in trusting, letting be, and
letting go into love's mysterious truths.
Their graceful ability to negotiate the precipice is amazingly evident
in the way they walk their given path. (Unlike most, they don't turn
their faces from the north wind for long.) In sharing with deep honesty
and creating their own footpath, they share the
beauty of a vantage point that no one wants to ever have to look from.
Then standing, they lovingly hold hands, and cradling the tiny ones,
walk on.
A few purple asters cling to the cape. The sting of salt has
taken its toll on the evergreens huddling there but they still stand
together and face the full force of the seaborne
wind. The sand below the cape is littered with driftwood and wonderful,
yet to be discovered gems. The sun catches, glowing for an instant, on
the crests of waves that too quickly roll back into the blue-grey deep
of the sea. The horizon, unflinching, remains
the same.
Steadfast in the knowledge that our edges are only edges until we reach
them...they recognize that each new moment can be a place to begin again
from. They know intuitively that as long as they have hearts of love,
goodness will guide them on their journey
into the unknown.
Sweet and wondrous gifts to the world they are!
Thank you to them for their powerful example of vulnerability and strength in their time of need.
Photo by Lucas MacCormack
