I find myself feeling sheltered and exposed all at once.
The rock I am perched on lifts me above the foothills. I can see my big city off on the horizon, the city that swallows me up when I am in it. From this point of view, it seems compact and fit for miniature matchbox cars. It seems that I could swallow it up.
The trees here, beautifully sculpted and snapped by years of violent winds, are also outstretched, their branches tuned to the joy of abundant sunlight. A place full of contradictions.
In this place, I am sheltered from the busyness of society sculpted by chaotic winds of consumerism. Here I am sheltered from my own snapping expectations. This earth receives me just as I am. I can close my eyes and breathe.
Lest I rest too well in this comfort, here I am also exposed. On the edge of the line between life and death. The elements are wild and untamed. The climate, uncontrolled. Whatever comes, I will know it fully. On this harshly sloping rock, I am aware that death is a footslip away. For today though, the elements are a mild winter wind and, thankfully, a warm patch of sun. My footing is sure.
Perhaps more frighteningly, I am exposed to the frailty of what it means to be a human in the wild- a single organism that is not even contributing to this system. My presence is a taking presence.
Unless…maybe I can bring an offering. I often ask myself what I can possibly offer to a system that functions just fine on its own. Better without me? I wrestle with being unsanctified in these sacred spaces. I open my meager soul basket and find honor, gratitude, trust, and remembrance, my best offerings.
How can this body do anything but take from this sacred place? Every footfall breaking ground leaving scent trails of sound Of humanity I come for blessing My clumsy existence Crushing moss beneath my feet Blundering past the holy Hands open to receive Before I leave What can you offer me? Or What can I offer you Before I leave? Can I come softly And pour my offering of honor over your earthly body Pour an honoring of gratitude into your waters Can I come marked with the ashes of repentance for humanity May I sit in your presence and come again to the truth of my presence... I am no more than that springtailed insect shimmering for a moment on your sun-warmed rocks.
Lovely and heartfelt, Tricia. Thank you!