Like the moon, come out from behind the clouds. Shine!

"Meditate.
Live purely.  Be quiet.
Do your work with mastery.
Like the moon, come out
from behind the clouds.
Shine!"

Thomas Byrom

Photo: Moonrise, Estes Park, CO; January 25, 2013

One gains by losing and loses by gaining.

The ten thousand things carry yin and embrace yang.
They achieve harmony by combining these forces.

People hate to be "orphaned," "widowed," or "worthless,"
But this is how kings and lords describe themselves.

For one gains by losing
And loses by gaining.

Lao Tze
China, 6th century B.C.E.

Photo: Black-and-white rock in a dry riverbed; Bellvue, CO; January 20, 2013

Mountains are a constant elevating influence.

"I doubt if in the landscape there can be anything finer than a distant mountain-range.  They are a constant elevating influence."

Henry David Thoreau

Photo: Notchtop Mountain and surrounding peaks on a blustery day; Rocky Mountain National Park; January 18, 2013

Clear mind is like the full moon in the sky.

"Clear mind is like the full moon in the sky. Sometimes clouds come and cover it, but the moon is always behind them. Clouds go away, then the moon shines brightly. So don't worry about clear mind: it is always there. When thinking comes, behind it is clear mind. When thinking goes, there is only clear mind. Thinking comes and goes, comes and goes, You must not be attached to the coming or the going."

Zen Master Seung Sahn

Photo: The moon rises behind a snag; Estes Park, CO; January 25, 2013

What is truth? That which we know not.

"What is truth?  That which we know not."

Henry David Thoreau

Photo: The Loch on a misty winter day; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 25, 2013

A seemingly manufactured life of discipline allows our inner wildness and creativity to manifest themselves.

Natural things - like the world itself, the planets, and all of their moons - seem to come out of nowhere, a fact that never fails to elicit in us a sense of surprise.  Manufactured items, on the other hand, are planned and intended, and we can trace the intentionality of their origins.  Because of this contrived element, they are generally less surprising.

The standard Judeo-Christian creation account gives us the sense that things are manufactured.  It's as though God says: "Now I will make the sea creatures; now I will make plants; now I will make land creatures." However, perhaps this assessment is not quite correct, for the Genesis account uses a recurring refrain: "Let there be . . ."  This kind of "allowing" does contain, one might argue, an element of surprise.

Even so, I prefer a less intentional - though still personal - version of creation. Here, we might imagine that when God LOSES himself in blissful love, all creatures nevertheless come spilling out, like echoes arising despite the fact that the Speaker never got around to speaking the word that would have served as their source.  Here, the feeling of surprise is predominant, a sense that creation arises out of nowhere.

Paradoxically, the surprising, creative elements of our own true self cannot manifest themselves unless we practice discipline, whereby we restrict our desires for mindless pleasure with the intention of allowing something truly NEW to spring forth.  Oddly, without the seemingly manufactured intentionality of self-denial, the spontaneous, mysterious and wild aspects of our inner self cannot reveal themselves.  Without personal discipline, we are reduced to a mere bundle of predictable addictions.  But WITH discipline, our creativity burgeons forth.

According to the Jewish mystical teaching of Isaac Luria, this process is a mirror of the way God creates. Here, although God is a light eternally filling all space, he realizes that he must shrink his presence - a contraction that is called 'tzimtzum' - in order to allow room for the creation to burgeon forth. Without God's  manufactured plan to discipline the natural tendency of his presence to expand itself, the wildness of the world would never be able to become manifest.

Photo: The moon shines next to a man-made "star"; Estes Park, CO; January 25, 2013

Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure.

"Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure."

Jalaluddin Rumi

Photo: Last summer's grass stalks grow in the midst of a devastating burn; Hewlett Burn, Poudre Canyon, CO; January 26, 2013

The Fascination of Burns

I just can't keep away from the areas where we had forest fires this past summer.  Without their needles the trees reveal a sculpture-like quality that I find endlessly fascinating.  And just as the fires have stripped the land to its bare essentials, so I feel myself stripped of the hectic mindset that life in society has implanted in me. In a burn, all of the minerals tied up in the duff lying on the forest floor have been released.  I feel such a sense of anticipation and hope, knowing that this Spring, these burns will be especially green!

Photo: Tree skeletons in the Hewlett Burn, Poudre Canyon, CO; January 26, 2013

Here, at the edge of heaven, I inhabit my absence.

Here, 

at the edge of heaven,

I inhabit my absence.

Tu Fu

8th century China

Photo: Ice patterns decorate the Loch while snow spits from the clouds; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 25, 2013

The moon is my heart.

Dark on the cliff, the orphan lamp, moon not set yet . . .
Perfectly round, that bright mirror no one needs to polish,
hanging there in the clear air:  it's my heart.

Han Shan (Cold Mountain)
c.7th - 9th century

Photo: L. to R. - Jupiter, the Moon, and a burned snag; Hewlett Burn, Poudre Canyon, CO; January 21, 2013

Incessant striving after wealth often leads to an early death.

They laugh at me, "Hey farm boy!
Skinny head, your hat's not tall enough,
and your belt goes around you twice!"

It's not that I don't know what's "in" . . .
If you don't have the cash, forget it.

But someday I'll get rich for sure,
and then I'll wear a big, tall
Buddhist gravestone on my head.

Han Shan (Cold Mountain)
legendary hermit monk
China, c. 7th-9th century

The last line of this poem is a mockery of the incessant striving after wealth that leads many people to an early death.

Photo: Senecio flowers and a tombstone-like block of quartzite; Snowy Range, WY; August 19, 2012

In ancient Chinese, the pictograph for "mind" is a drawing of a heart.

In ancient Chinese, the pictograph for "Mind" is simply a picture of the heart, because the thinking mind is not distinguished from the feeling heart. Thus, the character translates as "heart-mind." Similarly, "to think" is constructed of a heart beneath a skull (seen from the top, complete with a traditional pigtail.

"To feel" is constructed of two characters: the "heart-mind" I just mentioned, and another pictograph that means "the blue-green color of landscape," an amazing idea of color that includes both the green of plantlife and the blue of mountains-and-sky.  Thus, "heart-mind in the presence of landscape-color" or "the landscape-color of heart-mind" is the literal meaning of "to feel."  Feeling is therefore tied to the perception of landscape beauty.

From "Hunger Mountain" by David Hinton

Photo: Indian Paintbrush at Mount Rainier; Mount Rainier National Park, WA; July 24, 2012

Never fear the shadows. They simply mean there's a light shining somewhere nearby.

Never fear shadows.
They simply mean there's a light shining
somewhere nearby.

Ruth E. Renkel

Photo: Patterns of light and shadow on the Poudre River near Watson Lake; Bellvue, CO; January 20, 2013

In the Chinese language, "No" sometimes means "Yes"!

"In his fascinating book entitled "Hunger Mountain," Chinese language scholar David Hinton tells us that "[A]s far back as the eye can see, that pregnant emptiness at the heart of things has been a woman dancing, her swirling movements enhanced by foxtails [grasses] streaming out from her hands."  Hinton then shows the  early ideogram for "wu," which really does look like a woman dancing with grasses hanging from her hands.  Amazingly, "Early on, this graph meant both 'dance' and 'Absence' (Nonbeing).  As the language evolved, the graphs for the two words grew apart, though their pronunciation ("wu") remained the same." However, if we leave the two meanings together, we have something like "the originary dance of absence;" that is, the dance through which pregnant emptiness or spaciousness or vast awareness gives birth to the ten thousand things.

I find it amazing to realize that an open, relaxed and spacious mind is actually far from stagnant, for out of it arises an energy that gives birth to the multitude of creatures inhabiting this planet.  Accordingly, the Taoist Chinese word "wu-wei" means "Absence acting," the process by which we let the ego fall away and discover that the vast openness of awareness is somehow able to perform our actions, like an echo manifesting itself with no original sound.

Moving on to examine a famous Ch'an Buddhist koan (a paradoxical phrase that is used as a tool for reaching enlightenment), Hinton then shows how "wu" has a third meaning besides both "absence" and "dance." That third meaning is "No!" Amazingly, however, the "No" contained in the word "wu" can also mean "yes"! just as emptiness is able to manifest itself in all of the forms of daily life. According to the koan, "A monk asked: 'A dog too is/has Buddha-nature, no?" "No," Chao-chou replied.  In Japanese, "wu" becomes "mu," the word we generally remember as the response to the monk's question.  In any case, when the monk asks his question, and then says "no?" at the end, that idiom can just as well mean "yes."  For it would be the very same thing to ask, "A dog too is/has Buddha-nature, yes?"  Here, "wu" is sometimes called a "no-gate gateway," meaning a negative answer that suddenly shapeshifts into "yes."

I am not a Zen Buddhist, and I have never done koan work, but I can say this: to look at life challenges as an emptiness that inexplicably manifests itself as a dancing energy - or as a "no" that suddenly shapeshifts into a "yes" -  is a truly amazing and encouraging insight.  In meditation, we watch spellbound as the "no-thing" of open, spacious awareness suddenly manifests as millions of thoughts, all of which appear as a sort of "yes" dancing within the open space.  Similarly, it is helpful to understand that the "no" with which life often seems to answer our desires can suddenly, inexplicably, dance its way into a "yes." Fortunate for us, this insight is actually encoded into the Chinese language in the form of a "wu" that spontaneously is able to transform emptiness into a dance which is somehow able then to produce the ten thousand things.  How encouraging this is when times seem hard!

Photo: Sunset clouds dancing and reflecting in the ice of a pond; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; December 21, 2012

The wandering recluse is simply an echo of mountaintop moonlight coming and going night after night.

Straw sandals wet with the dew of grasses,
a recluse wanders.  Never coming to rest,
he's simply an echo of mountaintop moon-
light coming and going night after night.

Su Tung-p'o
11th century China

Photo: The moon rises by a rock formation at the edge of Hewlett Burn; Poudre Canyon, CO; January 21, 2013

The mountains themselves were made divine.

"[The] mountain apparently was glowing from the heart like molten metal fresh from a furnace . . . We stood hushed and awe-stricken, gazing at the holy vision . . . When the highest peak began to burn, it did not seem to be steeped in sunshine, however glorious, but rather as if it had been thrust into the body of the sun itself
. . . The mountains themselves were made divine."

The Contemplative John Muir, pp. 164-165

Photo: Lichen rock on Bear Lake, with Long's Peak burning in alpenglow; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 18, 2013

The moon is my very mind.

The moon hasn't set.

It's the unpolished jewel.  

Incandescence round and full,

it hangs there in blackest-azure skies,

my very mind.

Cold Mountain (Han Shan)

c. 7th-9th century China

Photo: Burned Ponderosa Pine snag with the moon and Juniper to the moon's left; Hewlett Burn, Poudre Canyon, CO; January 21, 2013

Winds will blow their own freshness into you, and storms will give you new energy.

"Go back among the mountains and get their good tidings . . . Winds will blow their own freshness into you, and storms will give you new energy . .. Nature's love and peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees, without ceremony, prepared method, or effort . . . You will get rid of benumbing lethargy and your town cares will drop off like leaves in autumn."

The Contemplative John Muir, p. 187

There is something so energizing about hiking and photographing in the mountains on a cold, blustery day. When I arrived at this lake, the wind was blowing at forty miles per hour, and with the wind chill, the temperature was below zero. Kneeling on the ice, trying not to let the wind topple me, I pointed the camera as best I could, careful not to stare at the sun in the viewfinder. My temporarily gloveless fingers went numb, and when I tried putting my hands back into the gloves, I wasn't sure if my little fingers were inserted correctly. Days like this are so energizing! I felt so alive, so free of town stresses, and so vibrant, just like the wind and blowing snow.

Photo: Two Rivers Lake and Notchtop Mountain, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 18, 2013

The Black and White races are two sides of the same coin.

“I have a dream that one day little black boys and girls will be holding hands with little white boys and girls.”     

Martin Luther King, Jr.

"The black and white halves of the Yin-Yang symbol are similar to the two sides of a coin. They are different, and distinct, yet one could not exist without the other."

Elizabeth Reninger

Photo: Black and white rocks lying in a dry riverbed; Bellvue, CO; January 20, 2013

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

"Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!"

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Photo: Snow blowing past Notchtop Mountain; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 18, 2013

Gazing all day into mountains, I can't get enough of mountains. Retire into mountains, and mountains become your old masters.

"Gazing all day into mountains, I can't get enough of mountains.
Retire into mountains, and mountains become your old masters."

Wang An-shih
11th century China

Photo: Lower Cathedral Lake and the peaks of the Sierra Nevada Range at dusk; Yosemite National Park, CA; July 27, 2012

He made the composure of these mountain peaks his own.

"Embracing the seasons of heaven through bright insight, . . .
he made the composure of these mountain peaks his own."

Hsieh Ling-yun
5th century China

Photo: Evening alpenglow on peaks of the Sierra Nevada Range, Yosemite National Park, CA; July 27, 2012

"Emptiness" is the spacious and dynamic arising of consciousness. It is a sort of "tiger-sky" that is full of vitality and creative energy.

When those of us who live in the West hear Buddhists and Taoists talk about "emptiness" as the foundation of the phenomenal world, we have a tendency to misunderstand the meaning of the term.  Thinking it implies a nihilistic denial of meaning, we quite often avoid it.  However, in the East, "emptiness" actually has a dynamic feel; it is a sort of "pregnant spaciousness" or "sky-space" that is constantly giving birth to "the ten thousand things."

David Hinton, a scholar of the Chinese language, points out the fact that in China, the three elements of sky, emptiness and consciousness are closely related.  For example, he speaks of the Chinese ideogram that is often translated as "empty" or "empty mind" or the "opening of consciousness."  It is that wide-open field of awareness out of which the ten thousand things - i.e., the phenomenal world - all arise magically, of their own accord.

As the source of the ten thousand things, this empty sky-mind is innately dynamic. Tracing the "empty mind" ideogram back to its original pictographic form, Hinton reveals how it is composed of three different aspects: a pair of mountain peaks, the sky above those peaks, and - within that sky - a tiger.  Thus,  emptiness translates literally as "mountain-tiger-sky."  Here, the tiger represents "chi," the fundamental energy of life, a vibrant force that is active in manifesting all things from the sky-space of consciousness.

Hinton concludes that "Consciousness is emptiness, Absence alive, an elemental ch'i-sky, . . . dynamic 'tiger-sky . . . It is the opening through which the Cosmos is aware of itself . . . , the boundless breath of the planet's empty mind."  Thus, emptiness is not something static.  Instead, it contains a dynamic energy - a "tiger-sky" - that gives birth to all of life.

Photo: A "tiger-sky" spreads its fire above Bingham Hill; Larimer County, CO; December 22, 2012

The mind knows beyond white clouds.

"The mind knows beyond white clouds."

Wang Wei

8th century China

Photo: Snag and cloud formation; Fern Lake Burn, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 5, 2013.  May we learn to let our minds move beyond the "clouds" of everyday challenges and to merge instead with the great spacious Beyond.

The truth was a mirror in the hands of God. It fell, and broke into pieces. Everybody took a piece of it, and they looked at it and thought THEY had the truth.

"The truth was a mirror in the hands of God.  It fell, and broke into pieces.  Everybody took a piece of it, and they looked at it and thought THEY had the truth."

Jalaluddin Rumi

Photo: Ice on Mills Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 4, 2013

I'm still unraveling this question cloud-hidden peaks all pose.

After all that loss and ruin, I live at peace . . . , 

still unraveling this question cloud-hidden peaks all pose . . . ,

[T]his mind all lingering dusk grows boundless, boundless.

Tu Fu

8th century Chinese poet

Photo: Rabbitbrush and foothills in the falling snow and mist; Lory State Park, CO; January 12, 2013

this mind all . .

There's nothing like some good ice crystals in the beard on a sub-zero day to make a guy feel at one with Nature!

There's nothing like some good ice crystals in the beard on a sub-zero day to make a guy feel at one with Nature!

Photo: Lory State Park, CO; January 12, 2013.  I bought the hat at Copper River Fleece in Cordova, Alaska.

A Spirituality of Planes and Jets Crossing the Wilderness Sky

Many people complain when they hear airplanes or jets cross the sky while out exploring the Great Outdoors. But I've come to appreciate these occurrences, and have discovered that they can actually enhance my perception of the spiritual quality of the landscape.  Accordingly, whenever I hear the low, descending tones of a plane moving toward the horizon, I imagine a cosmic sort of "sigh," a moment of bliss shared between myself and the Great Mystery.  Similarly, when I listen to a jet crossing the sky, I find my sense of distance and far horizons amplified, as though the jet trail is a finger pointing toward the Great Beyond, the loving Presence who dwells eternally on the endless horizon of Being.

Photo: Alpenglow on Long's Peak above Mill's Lake; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 4, 2013

In the mountains, there are ten thousand wrinkles unseen by anyone.

[I]nside the cabin . . . The door swings closed, 

then back open onto exquisite ranged mountains: 

ten thousand wrinkles unseen by anyone,

and every ridge hand-picked by the late sun's slant light.

Yang Wan-li

Ch'an (Zen) Buddhist poet

12th century China

Photo: Ice on Mills Lake, with Long's Peak, Keyboard of the Winds and Pagoda Peak in the background; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 4, 2013

There is no certainty until you burn!

""If your knowledge of fire has been turned to certainty by words alone, then seek to be cooked by the fire itself. Don't abide in borrowed certainty. There is no real certainty until you burn; if you wish for this, sit down in the fire."

Jalaluddin Rumi

Photo: Grasses growing at sunset in the High Park Burn; Young Gulch, CO; January 7, 2013

The lover's house improves with fire. From now on, I will make burning my aim.

Should Love's heart rejoice unless I burn?
For my heart is Love's dwelling.
If You will burn Your house, burn it, Love!
Who will say, 'It's not allowed'?
Burn this house thoroughly!
The lover's house improves with fire.
From now on I will make burning my aim,
for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.
Abandon sleep tonight; traverse for one night
the region of the sleepless.
Look upon these lovers who have become distraught
and like moths have died in union with the One Beloved.
Look upon this ship of God's creatures
and see how it is sunk in Love.

Jalaluddin Rumi

Photo: Sunset in the High Park Burn; Young Gulch, Poudre Canyon, CO; January 7, 2013

Be friends with your burning.

"Forget phraseology.
I want burning, 'burning'.
                 Be friends
with your burning. Burn up your thinking
and your forms of expression!
                 Moses,
those who pay attention to ways of behaving
and speaking are one sort.
                 Lovers who burn
are another."

Jalaluddin Rumi

Photo: High Park Burn, Young Gulch, Roosevelt National Forest, CO; January 4, 2013

Come into being as you pass away.

These Douglas-fir trees were burned in the High Park Fire this past summer, leaving the needles singed and the bark blackened.  Now, the needles of the dying trees are turning a bright red, contrasting beautifully with the blackened trees.  For me, these stunning needles illustrate a process that occurs each and every moment of our lives.  Here, the appearance of each event and each creature within our experience is like a fireworks display, exploding into vibrant appearance in the very moment when it is simultaneously dissipating and dying away, only to reappear out of the pregnant spaciousness of divine love in the very next moment, and then dying away again in the next. This process of simultaneous rebirth and death appears all through our lives, embodying the vibrant and paradoxical magic of life. When we consciously embrace this process, we are following the injunction of Jesus in the Gospel of Thomas: "Come into being as you pass away."  May all of us realize and practice this insight with increasing depth.

Photo:  High Park Burn, Young Gulch, Poudre Canyon, CO; January 7, 2012

Become the sky.

Inside this new love,
die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.

Jalaluddin Rumi

Photo: Beautiful sky; Fern Lake Burn, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 5, 2013

A mountain can be a great teacher because it stands apart, at once elusive and magisterial.

"A mountain can be a great teacher . . . because it stands apart, at once elusive and magisterial.  Walking up the mountain today, its imposing and indifferent presence reminds me yet again that things in and of themselves remain beyond us, even after the most exhaustive and accurate scientific or philosophical account, the most compelling mythology, or the most concise and penetrating poem . . . It was this insight that drew ancient China's intellectuals to mountains . . . The West's dualistic thinking devalues 'nature' because its linguistic silence allows for no meaning, no inner reality or spirit, and this devaluation has facilitated catastrophic environmental destruction, for it reduces earth to nothing more than a collection of resources for our use, or the stage upon which we play out our human drama during a brief exile from our true spirit-home.  But for the ancients, the elemental silence of things is the perfect wisdom that we, as linguistic beings, have lost."

David Hinton

"Hunger Mountain"

Photo: Last light glazes Long's Peak and Keyboard of the Winds above Mills Lake; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 4, 2013

The lakes boom and utter their joy.

This past weekend, I hiked to two lakes in Rocky Mountain National Park.  The first was Mills Lake, at  10,000 feet in elevation, and the second was Cub Lake, at about 8,600 feet.  On both hikes, I was surprised to hear the lake booming - a loud sound followed immediately by one that was softer, on the same pitch.  To me, it felt like the lakes were alive and talking.  I found it easy to resonate with Henry David Thoreau when he wrote: "The bare face of the pond is full of glee and youth, as if it spoke the joy of the fishes within it, and of the sands on its shore."

Photo: Ice and reflections on Mills Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 4, 2013

In meditation, our thoughts are like whirlwinds of snow, kicked up from a mountain peak, made surprisingly ruddy with the last light!

At sunset on Saturday, the most amazing thing happened.  My wife and I were hiking in the Cub Lake area in Rocky Mountain National Park.  The sunlight had recently left the mountain tops, leaving them standing - in shade - in silent contemplation.  However, it was a blustery day up there, and every few minutes, the wind would kick up some snow on the peak and swirl it in the air, turning it into a whirlwind.  Each time that occurred, the last light - hovering unseen just above the peak - turned the swirl of snow a bright red, making the mountain look almost as though it was having a volcanic eruption!

As my wife and I watched this show, it occurred to me that this is precisely what I experience in meditation. As I sit in silence, I begin to embody the vast stillness of mountain and sky.  Then, out of nowhere, thoughts kick up.  Rather than treat them as intrusions into the silence, I have learned instead to practice AMAZEMENT that they could even occur at all.  Since many of these thoughts embody strong emotion - desire, love, fear, anger, etc. - it makes sense to imagine that when they arise, they appear ruddy with passion.  But just as quickly as they kick up, they subside back into the shade of stillness, only to arise once more a few seconds later. How amazing is the mind when we actually sit  and watch it!

Photo: Stones Peak, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 5, 2013

The fiery trials of our lives find healing when we view them against the spacious backdrop of Divine Awareness.

When I encounter trees burned in a forest fire set again a wide-open sky, I am being given a chance to see the fiery trials of my own life find healing when they are placed within a larger context.  Here, the sky is an embodiment of the vastness of divine awareness, a spacious, loving Reality in which my own consciousness participates.  If  I identify myself with this vastness rather than with the aspects of my life that have seemingly turned to ash, then I can begin to see them as transparent windows onto that vastness.  Indeed, without

the fire of trials, I would never have the motivation to look through them to the vast and loving reality Beyond.

Photo: Charred trees in the Fern Lake Burn; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 5, 2013 

Watch the glow of God reflecting from my face.

Watch all the aspiration and light;
watch the glow of God
reflecting from my face

Jalaluddin Rumi

Photo: Long's Peak burns in alpenglow fire above Mills Lake; Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; January 4, 2012

I do not know how to distinguish between our waking life and a dream. Are we not always living the life that we IMAGINE we are?

"I do not know how to distinguish between our waking life and a dream.  Are we not always living the life that we IMAGINE we are?"

Henry David Thoreau, 1859

Photo:  Cottonwood trees, an irrigator, and a backdrop of the foothills area hit by the High Park Fire; Bellvue, CO; December 31, 2012.  Notice the three coyotes at bottom right.

Everything terrible is something that needs our love.

"Everything terrible is something that needs our love."

Rainer Maria Rilke

Photo: High Park Burn made ethereal by late-day light; December 31, 2012

When we give love in ONE particular place, we find liberation when we learn to remain open to the ways in which our love is returned to us from OTHER sources.

One of the most difficult challenges in life is the experience of unrequited love, not only in a romantic context, but also in the realm of friendship.  When we offer our heart to another, and they do not love us in return, we are tempted to feel foolish and embarrassed.  In fact, we often feel we've gotten "burned" by giving ourselves so naively.  However, we can find liberation from the suffering this situation brings when we realize that life   - together with our own core identity  - is actually composed of a whole NETWORK of beings, all of whom are intimately interconnected at their deepest core.  In the context of a Rocky Mountain aspen forest like the one pictured here, we might say that every person and every creature is like a single stem growing in a grove in which every tree is interconnected at the roots.

Interestingly, the Pando Grove in the Wasatch Mountains of Utah is commonly thought to be the largest living organism. It covers 106 acres, and is at least 80,000 years old, although some scientists think it may be up to a million. It is comprised of over 47,000 stems, all of which are tied in to a single root system. This aspen grove serves as a wonderful embodiment of the answer to our dilemma of unrequited love. Accordingly, one of the most important life-lessons we can learn is the realization that - when we offer our love to ONE particular person - we must then remain open to the ways in which we may receive love in return from some OTHER person.  In other words, except in the case of intimate relationship, where both partners are ideally equally in love,  we will remain disappointed with others only if we erroneously expect to receive love back from the same person to whom we first offered it.

Can we remain open to receiving a sense that we are lovable from an attractive stranger's smile, for example, or from an alpenglow sunrise, or from unexpected wildlife we might encounter on the trail? Or perhaps from a liberating insight that suddenly visits us, or from a sense of joy at simply being alive? We may feel our love turned to ash within the recipient of our love when they do not want it, but we find liberation from hurt feelings when we remember to remain open to receive love back from some other creature - or person - composing the vast web of life.  In other words, the solution to our dilemma arises when we take our attention off the ashen aspen tree and place it instead on an unburned tree composing the great grove of the world.  Gradually, it dawns on us that our frequent experience of rejection comes from our habit of construing life too narrowly. We begin to see that we can find peace instead when we understand that the love we receive in return may come from a completely DIFFERENT source!

Photo: Burned and unburned aspen trees; Fern Lake Burn, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; December 29, 2012

Let us appreciate the yin and yang of life.

I'm always attracted to contrasts nestled side by side.  In this case, it's a sprig of Oregon Holly-Grape jutting up out of the snow, next to an aspen trunk burned in last month's forest fire.  To me, this sort of aesthetic visual contrast speaks of the importance of respecting the yin-yang aspect of life.  Without something to struggle against, we would develop no psychological muscle.  Without emotional suffering, there would be no sudden insight.  Without the sense of separation, there could be no awareness of union.  Without unrequited love for another human being, there would be no search for a Divine Lover. Without ego, there could be no enlightenment when ego is seen-through. And without the mundane events of life, there could be no ecstasy or epiphany.  Obviously, we will all continue to work to end EXTREME suffering - unbearable physical or psychological pain, debilitating disease, poverty and oppression.  Too much pain does nothing but squash the human spirit.  But mild or moderate suffering is the gas that fuels the spiritual journey.  It is the fire of trials that brings the greenness of new life.  This, I've come to realize, is a major reason why I love spending time exploring, photographing and contemplating in forest fire burn areas.

Photo:  Fern Lake Burn, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; December 29, 2012

Let us have faith during the inevitable period of dormancy that occurs after old realities end and before new growth springs forth.

Last month, the vegetation in this marsh was burned to stubble in a forest fire that covered 3,500 acres. When spring arrives in a few months, these plants will sprout vigorously from the roots, becoming greener and more beautiful than ever.  However, for now, they are covered in a blanket of snow, and not much seems to be happening.  Similarly, when the fire of challenge and suffering comes into our lives, many things we had relied upon come to an end.  Even so, we can have faith that new possibilities will eventually spring forth.  However, let us not become discouraged when a period of winter-like dormancy seems to drag on for months before that newness emerges.  During that time, our psyche is being watered by what seems like a smothering, deadening blanket, and our inner being is preparing for its later growth. Let us maintain our faith, and weather through the period of dormancy until life is ready to spring forth once more!

Photo: Cub Lake, Fern Lake Burn, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; December 29, 2012