Surprised by Fall

I looked down the street that was boarded with trees at different stages of maturity, all coniferous. A breeze arose. In that instant, the leaves took flight from the place they were born and where they had lived all the months since the early spring. In one great sweep they became a swirling creature of color. This brown, yellow, red and orange arch fell gracefully to the ground as another one took its place in the air. A little further up the street, another tree released its own flurry of color like a responding dance partner.

I stayed immobile for a while as a question formed in my mind, "who is this for?"

Then, " where is the bride?" "Where are the guests?"

I already heard the music. A wild mystical party was happening there before my eyes.

A Beautiful Moment

I had a beautiful moment today.

Sitting with my dogs in the park, my kids playing happily. I was watching a man run up and down the hill with his dog. Then they lost my attention and it went to the trees.

Against he backdrop of a pure blue sky, were some silver birch already naked, some maples with red, yellow, orange and even some green leaves. Of course a few evergreens, some pine and some cedar, were dispersed throughout the scene.

I had been thinking about the future, plans and dreams, while mesmerized by the high jinks of the man and his dog. But in this moment, I decided to let it all go.

In the next second, a wind picked up and blew everything as if in celebration. Or perhaps it came to take all my worries way. Every tree waved at me, every branch blew me kisses.

And I smiled.

Walking in Dreams

It's a beautiful thing to take a walk at 6 am. The stars are still out and I can find systems at a glance. At the moment it's a bit cold but nice and dry. So the walk I take during the final hour of darkness is very pleasant.

I should probably run but I am enjoying taking my time. This morning I didn't bother getting dressed. I just put a coat over my pajamas and donned my worn out running shoes. I snuck out the back door, hoping no one would be woken by "the silence of someone trying to be silent" (Stolen from John Irving, A Widow for a Year).

The streets are different. There is an empty peaceful vibe like I can hear the residents sleeping, like I am walking through their dreams.

I do meet some people, not many. Some smell of cigarettes or perfume. I'm sure their breaths smell like coffee. But they don't want to greet me, they don't want to make any contact with me and that suits me fine. Even the rare dog walker changes direction when they see me coming, or else I change mine.

We are shadows in a dream not wanting to be noticed. A part of us still wants to sleep. So we go quietly on.

I pass houses decorated for halloween or fall. I pass expensive townhouses, fancy sprawling monster homes, but I am more interested in the small bungalows. They are on the extinction list. Many of them are full of character with elaborate gardens. Rare is the one that isn't well kept. They speak to me of goodness, diligence, and simplicity but also of warmth, comfort and clarity.

I see windows of apartments alight. I see objects like statues and paintings that are unfamiliar. I wonder where these neighbours came from. I wonder how much hidden talent lurks in the dark places of my hood waiting for an opportunity to show itself and enlighten all.

When I am about five minutes from home and freshly ground coffee, yogurt with cereal and fruit, I find a sky that has turned dark blue. Some days I turn a corner and it is infused with an orange that fills everything and takes all my thoughts away. They are the days I want to stay there and honor the dawn.

Where happiness hides

What are we all trying to do anyway? Where are we all going? What are we running after?

Well-being? Love? Happiness?

What if we just stopped for a while and found well-being, love and happiness inside. Or in contemplation of a body of water, a tree swaying in the wind, the eyes of our beloved? The source of all lasting happiness is hidden in these types of experiences. This is my daily bread. This is the nourishment of my soul. This is my prayer, my meditation. This is how I give glory to all that is. This is my religion.

I remember being very sad when my son was just a few months old. The words of a friend came to mind. "When you are experiencing a painful emotion focus on something uplifting for twenty one seconds. This exercise will raise you up."

So I did it. I looked at my baby boy who instantly smiled at me. The more I looked at him, the more he smiled and giggled. I ended up being infected by his joy. It didn't completely erase the pain but it came pretty close.

I find myself by a lake on a mild day, with nothing to do but enjoy the sensations of summer, observing the patterns in the water, allowing myself to be hypnotized by them. These are the patterns of life, they are the music that is written in my soul. They take me back to who I am, and I become drunk on the sensations of the moment.

Without the sustenance of these eternal moments I am only a part of what I can be. With them I am more relaxed, more patient, more focused, more loving. Isn't that what religion is all about, making us better, more whole?