Sitting on the sundeck looking into the canyon behind the house – cactus plants, geraniums, rhamnaceae plants, acacia and eucalyptus trees, jacaranda palms and other vegetation that are all mysteries to me – and I’m filled with peace.
The canyon drops sharply from the deck so although some of the trees are at least 60 feet tall, I am looking at the upper part of them, swaying gently, leaves rustling in the breeze.
Wrens, warblers, hummingbirds flit back and forth among the trees…a butterfly here and there, choosing where to settle among the many choice flowers.
There is a serenity that grabs at the soul, urging communion. It all feels like an extension of myself, a bond that must be leaned into and welcomed or I’m afraid I’ll be left with a huge void….and I’m not sure what would fill it.
But there is something else present, something that disrupts my peace of mind. A couple of hundred feet down the slope is a non-descript little grave marker. It has been there for many years and is said to contain the ashes of someone who lived in the community a long time ago. Maybe it was he who planted the eucalyptus trees many years ago, and now rests in their shade.
I am left immersed in the tranquility of nature, along with its persistence.
Under a blanket of leaves lies the enigma of dying….it cries out that the fullness of our lives includes the passing of it all, while allowing what is left behind to continue on without any hesitation.
I find it hard to remain present to it all, a fleeting moment before life steps in and re-directs my thoughts. As usual, it is to something containing more ‘same-ness’….anything rather than to contemplate my ultimate fate.
Meanwhile, I wonder if the tenant of that grave made a difference in his life. Does anyone know ‘he’ is there? Does anyone care anymore?
Today, as I weigh my own life as a 60-year old, I am thinking, “I really, really don’t want to die.”
I have nothing philosophical to say about that. As to any poetry about living and dying, I’ll leave that to the writers of Hallmark verse.
As I sit in meditation with the trees, the birds, the butterflies, I am so aware of how much I like being alive.
For today, what matters is to just sit in awe and wonder, of both the life of the canyon and the human cycle of life/death churning in my thoughts.
So, for whomever that little grave marker was hewn, please know that you have made an impact in my life. You have made me feel very human today, and I am humbled!
Rich