Day 7- Magnificat

4:00 am

It has rained hard during the night, but it has been warm. I have just gotten up to use the box, because the rain has stopped and I know that I can get there without getting drenched… but also because something has stirred me to rise.

Behind the rains was, at last, a brilliant-dark sky, with stars unimaginable anywhere else. We have a view of more than half the sky over the water and the trees of this island. Walking to the ledge, I felt as if I were standing on top of the world itself, tugged through space by the pull of the sun.

How can anyone not delight, not be filled with enchantment (with song!) in such a place as this. Oh earth, you are so beautiful to those who see. May I always have eyes to see your great beauty, within each moment — harsh and spectacular. May I see your beauty in gray and blue, in movements of clouds and waves, in stillness of water.

May I hear your beauty in the rustle of leaves, in the song of wolf and loon and bird and moose. May I smell your beauty in sweet smelling fern and fetid feces, in smoky fire and the release of fragrance from the nourishment you so abundantly provide, in fruit and in grain.

I am grateful for the needs of my body, for its need to rise to release water, for the blessed invitation for release it has given to me this night. I am grateful for its need for rest after long days of physical work, which causes me to be still long enough to see. I am grateful for its ability to move, to carry, to receive, to give.

I am grateful for each moment of this trip, hard times, confusing times, anxious times, quiet times, close times, distant times. I am grateful for friends who have given me this gift, for husband who has given me this gift, for earth, who has given me this gift.

I had thought to rise again, to take my bag up to the ridge, to sleep under those stars. As quickly, however, the moment has passed, and the clouds from the next passing front have covered them over again.

I am grateful I was awake. I am awake. In that moment, In this one.

A moth was drawn to my light as I was preparing to move to the ledge, as I gathered my bag, my groundcloth, my cushion, drawn to the light, as am I, to dance for just a moment in its allure.

May I live my life like the moth, always drawn to the light in this place. There is so much light, so many places to behold it. How fortunate am I to dance with it.

6:30 am

This morning I rise to sing with the loon and the raven, with the tree frog and the owl, with the bawling moose and the barking wolf. I sing, ‘In beauty, we walk’ and await the response from the earth. We sing together, as one, this way for some time, and  I am a voice in the chorus.

The light slowly brings the lake into view, the islands come first, then the line of ridges beyond. I notice current in the lake, dark sweeping curves where the river enters from the east. Gray has returned to the sky, blanketing the dawn with enchantment.

A red squirrel chatters, the loon calls, mist settles into pockets on the ridges beyond, now revealing their russets and tangerines. The wind is soft, cool but not cold, here on this great fallen tree that has graced me with a perch from which to view the unfolding.

How can I keep from singing?

I yearn. I yearn to get into the water, to paddle the shoreline, to bathe in this beauty, pre dawn.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Tammy
    Oct 10, 2014 @ 14:05:49

    Vicki, did you go out for the predawn paddle?!



  2. Trackback: Algoquin post script – seed coats | Emmaatlast's Weblog

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