BEAUTIFUL/moments

My summer at Easton Mountain has been filled with so many beautiful moments. In fact, each day offers a new strand of extraordinary moments, which at the end of the day I wear like a necklace. Each gem of that necklace an event, a celebration, an adventure, an unexpected connection, which I must shed in order to be adorned with a new necklace of experiences, a new day. The truth is, however, that it’s been a bit overwhelming to wear a new necklace every day. Living so fully in the present moment requires a continual letting go of the past and an unanticipated lean into the future. I look at my jewelry box of moments with both wonder and confusion. How do I make space for it all? Do I hold on to these strands of precious moments? Or do I just simply let them go? And how?

There are some moments that stand out, that sparkle above and beyond the normal glimmer of my experience. Sometimes I want to cling to those moments. Sometimes I want those moments back or I want to repeat them. Sometimes, I feel sad when a stunning sunset is over, when I climb down from the treehouse or float back from an amazing canoe ride, when a friend leaves not knowing when I’ll see him again or when I think about an ex-lover.

Mary Oliver writes, "When it’s over, it’s over and we don’t know any of us, what happens then. So I try not to miss anything. I think, in my whole life, I have never missed the full moon or the slipper of it’s coming back, Or, a kiss. Well, yes, especially a kiss." The point is not to miss anything, to stay alert, to let the richness of life spill into our lives and into our hearts, to let it overflow and to not care whether the spillage is tears of joy or tears of sadness. In the end we don't really know what experiences will make us happy, but one thing for sure is that the more present we can be for each moment the greater our chances of not missing out, of being happy.

Recently, I spent time with a friend of mine who has been visiting Easton Mountain on and off all summer. The conversation lilted from one topic to the next. If I were to put this moment on a necklace it would surely be the jeweled center piece that dangles close to cleavage of my heart. I'm not quite sure what it is about Easton Mountain-- the people, the panoramic views of nature, the continual cool summer breeze, the immaculate night sky, the purple haze of the ethereal Milky Way Galaxy, who knows, but these kinds of spontaneous and deeply satisfying conversations happen often here. In this particular conversation my friend talked about how these incredibly beautiful moments signify a time when we experience something beyond space and time, a time when we engage in something that satisfies the deeper part of our soul. At first we might experience sadness, grief or even anger when that experience is over, which is healthy and good, but ultimately we must allow ourselves to return to seeing those moments as beautiful.

This reminded me of something that Pema Chodrin spoke of in one of her books. She says that the truly open heart is oftentimes tinged with sadness. I realized that both beauty and sadness can be simultaneously true, and that perhaps in some way, they are inseparable.

Two days ago I noticed on the ground a perfect bright red leaf. I exclaimed out loud, “autumn!” I was immediately filled with excitement because autumn is my favorite season. Simultaneously, I felt a stab of pain realizing that the end of the summer is near. There I stood with a bright red leaf in my hand and the warm summer sky all around me.