Infinite Trust

I sat at the bottom of some stone steps today to find a hidden quiet place with just myself, nature, some water, and the sun. There are many different directions I could go with this blog post because I discovered, uncovered, soaked in, and felt a lot in those moments of snug solitary warmth, but I think the most profound discovery I experienced was my own intimate place, free from the noise, with nature.

Small movements in the water became deeply intriguing. Bubbles pulled, grouped together, and moved around the surface became evidence of magic, attracted by the magnetic pull from the stick dipped in the water. Held in my hand, the stick transformed into a wand, a guide, leading the bubbles toward a rising maple leaf floating up from the depth, lifting the current to in turn lift the leaf like a raft, momentarily carrying the bubbles.

With no one around, I didn’t have to worry about any one judging, labeling my state as spacing out or possibly induced by drugs. I was free to fully enjoy the small miracles, mystical playground, and flood of emotional, thought, and spiritual acceptance that is nature and the universe combined.

As the sensation of stone against my back, solid in its support and prehistoric in its wisdom, drew me back to Wyoming, where a gigantic rock cradle held me as I slept away what could have been suicidal pain, I turned my attention back to the water, back to the present, where the mirrored sun on the surface blinded gently. I took a pebble and tossed it into the golden middle, capturing the splash, the yolk of light rippling out, and all the tiny Morse code sparkles that have always spoken to me in a language only my absolute calm, relaxed sight understands. In that moment, I wasn’t carried or swept by a memory, but I was aligned with a moment from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho where I stood in a smoke haze, a month or so forward from that deeply held time in Wyoming. I was on a long wooden dock, leaning over the railing, breathing in the sweet subtle smoke fog all around, one with the water and the sky as the sparkles in the middle danced and captivated, and everything else became cloudy and glowing all around.

The atmosphere held me then. Without touch or evidence this time, I knew once again cusp of life truths and infinite support. I levitated in that moment, feeling light and heavenly, excited and calm, capable of anything yet inspired to do absolutely nothing at all. A brilliant cloud of light and nothingness drowned out the unseen horrors. As the Morse code sparkles blinked that moment to me, they also blinked in the present-time clarity all around, clear of smoke and luscious in beauty here in Vermont, even in the so-called barren season of winter.

It is officially winter today, and I didn’t realize that until after my private solitary time outside. Maybe this is significant, maybe it’s not. I do know though that from experience, time is not linear, and life is not predictable nor planned. It is endlessly fascinating, and always worth living through every single time. In my naturally meditative state—a state I didn’t seek out but happened upon today at the bottom of those steps, in the sun, next to the water, I integrated the most devastating and equally beautiful moments of the last two years. I didn’t do it with force, and I didn’t do it with drugs or fear. I did it with grace and I did it with ease, all because I allowed and trusted in myself, and I knew the entire time that nature and the universe never stopped having my back.