| 
2 December~2007
It was 20 degrees when me and Ben and Maggie went down the north ridge to the Greenbelt. The stream at the bottom is frozen hard, as is the frog pond we always visit.
The old Cottonwood seems strong and pure in its winter state. It catches the rays of winter sun, and I have discovered that foxes will sit on the south side of its base taking in the morning's warmth.
The tree is certainly very old, and I have wondered if it will still be standing when I walk the Green Belt a last time.
I have been able to take public transportation more lately, since I give few nature programs in the winter months. I am comfortable among the working people who ride the bus to their jobs. Using the bus seems to be a kind of humility, which is in contrast to the scores of single-car drivers who race by the bus stop, especially the humvees and big four-wheel drives.
My bias is showing though. I clearly have a chip on my shoulder regarding those who put too much stake in income and wealth as a measure of success. To me there is nothing worse than thinking you are better because of your money.
I prefer the company of people like the small lady in the blue checker coat waiting for the bus in the morning snow. I got on behind her and was happy to find that this one had its heater working.
Its easy to get caught up on the security and buying power of a large income, and most of us spend our lifetimes striving for the same. Isnt that at odds though with what was said about not getting your heart set on treasures of this earth? What about the rich man who said he had been a good man all his life, and asked what else can he do to enter the kingdom of heaven? The answer he received was a tough one - sell what you have and give it to the poor.
I give plenty but I could do more.
Things like this come to mind because all the time I have spent in wilderness has made me realize that true riches lie in experiencing the beauty of the earth, as well as helping others.
A few days ago the bus was descending a hill just as the sun was rising. It was still dark where we where but I could see a soft golden light all across the band of foothills to the West. It was absolutely beautiful. Prayers of honor and thanks come easily in moments like that.
I get the same feeling up high in the Rockies, especially on wind-swept nights when the heavens are filled with thousands upon thousands of stars, and I offer the same prayers.
I often have good dreams, and last night I had one that I remembered several hours later as I entered the GreenBelt with Ben and Maggie. In my dream I was walking along a wooded stream, that went over a substrate of white soil, from sand mixed with shell fragments. I dreamt that this must be an area where there are a lot of artifacts. I came to a small road that went steeply uphill to some rock formations. The road was filled with soft sand, and I noticed a set of canine prints that went up. I tried to follow but eventually found the going to steep and the loose sand too slippery, and had to come back down.
Not sure what it means, but I always like dreams that have me outside. I read today that winter is the season of the soul, and winter light is dream light.
 |
||
 |
||
 |
 |
|
 |
||
 |
||
 |
||
 |
||
 |
||
 |
||
 |
 |
|
 |
||
 |
|
|
(to see a 700 pixel wide image of the above collage, click here; to see a 1400 wide pixel image of the above picture, click here.)
Do You Hear What I Hear by Moya Brennan
(enter userid of 'music and password of 'music')