It feels like spring in our backyard, although yesterday it was predicted that winter would remain in place for another six weeks. It’s hard to predict anything these days. The world seems so topsy-turvy that one can’t easily rely on what is factual or alternate reality any longer. It’s like we have all donned a collective set of virutal reality goggles, and we are walking around in a landscape that seems oddly familiar but that has been significantly altered.
I’ve been reading Daoist philosophy lately. This Eastern practice is ancient, dating back to a time when elders and shamans provided insight and wisdom acquired by observing the cycles and rhythms of nature. The lesson of Daoism is to know oneself by understanding the flow of Tao in nature. Man is a microscom of the land around him, and to cultivate peace means to be attuned to the land and the seasons.
Nature seems to be out of synch in our backyard, what with blooming orchirds in winter and a lake that thirsts for rain that modern shamans predict yet doesn’t arrive. I like to sit in the yard in the afternoon to witness evening unfold. Here is where I take my goggles off and forget about facts and non-facts. Here the grass is real. So is the dirt under my bare feet. The lake’s water feels cold. In the distace, crows call out to each other, relaying messages I can’t decipher.
The orchids keep blooming in winter, yearning for and pointing to spring. An afternoon breeze dims the light of the setting sun, and on such breeze a shaman delivers his message. Maybe, it’s not that nature is out of synch. Maybe nature is so attuned to us, it gifts us its finest to remind us of what we’re missing, and what is important.