From the Mouths of Babes…

Along the dreaming trail of my book tour I was taken to Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument to hike with my book designer and her family.  The area is known for interesting rocks including Apache Tears, little tear-drop shaped pieces of black obsidian rock.  As soon as we parked at the trailhead we all bolted from the car onto the path with our eagle-eyes intent on
spying these beautiful little jewels. Which is tricky.  Because when the obsidian is clean it is shiny and glistens; when it is mashed into dirt trails, dusty, and amongst thousands of other kinds of similarly shaped rocks it’s very hard to see.

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After a little bit of time passed one of our crew, Aviva, stopped.  Soon she hollered the cry of finding the mother lode.  When I got to her side she said, “You know, when I just stop and get still for a while suddenly I see them everywhere.”

From the mouths of babes.

Our daily lives are strewn with jewels.  In fact, they are available to usnmost every moment.  But like our hiking crew we often bolt down the trail of life hoping that we’re able to catch them while we’re racing ahead.  But a question to ask ourselves is this:  Is the goal the end of the trail, having “done” 3 miles?  Or is it the journey where we pause along the way to train our sites on the hidden miracles at our very feet?

When we pause, we “suddenly see” life’s gifts everywhere.

Rabbi Gershon Winkler talks about this a great deal in his book The Magic of the Ordinary.  As a culture we are constantly looking to expand our bounds – we educate, experiment, voyage to
new continents, fly into space.  But what about the mystery of the rock?  Or of the winds?   Or the tree?  What can they say to us?  What about our inner experiencing?  Our response to the world and the miracles that are strewn about our feet?

What can we learn about ourselves when we actually stop, listen, and contemplate the right here, instead of the out there?

After Aviva’s discovery we took our time, mosey-ing along, pointing out sites that were high above, like a tree growing right out of a rock-face cliff (which is a very deep teaching), still more Apache tears along the ground, and all the visual intensity of the in-between.  We didn’t reach the end of the trail (frankly, none of us were quite sure where it was), but we were rich with inner experiences when we finished.

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So here’s a challenge for this week: Where can you slow down a little bit, or even stop?  What moment can you sit and listen to where you are, right then, instead of thinking about where you’re going?  And most importantly, what jewel do you find when you do?

Happy dreaming!

Bonnie