I return to the woods again, after weeks of letting wind and cold convince me that I should stay away. The sun is gentle, but warm on my face. Animal tracks alone mark the bright surface of shining snow. And deer, furry faced, are unafraid, placidly watching me. The woods calm the flurry that is my mind, open the cavity of my chest and my being expands into the open space, over the pond that is hidden by snow, past the hills and their slippery sides. I am finally present.
But when I return to the day-to-day world, I revert to frenzy, to flooding thoughts and juggling. When I return to the day-to-day world I am a slave again, to the clock and the calendar. I am overcome with the task I have set for myself, to hold energy for my irrepressible Chiqui and Golondrina, for my brave Brujo, for my clients, and for the dream fulfilled that is the retreat on La Finca, my landscape of home. Overcome.
Until I am arrested again with the image —no, the cellular memory— of the surprising appearance of an owl, enormous in its girth, and more so in its presence, fluttering out of a towering oak tree, directly before me, then gliding gracefully out into the forest. An owl! This night creature, hunter of truth, flying before me and offering its gifts!
I remember, then, that there are no tasks for me. There is only love; love for my family and my work, for the world. I have only to be present, not to what is happening or what I wrote on the calendar. I have only to be present to my Self, to my connection to the Earth below me, and the flow of my life force and its interplay with the energies around me, with you.