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Pastimes : Metaphysics and Spiritual Practices -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Yorikke who wrote (544)	2/26/1998 2:43:00 AM
From: Yorikke	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 650

He stared up at the great tree.... which rose like God's own monument into the crystal blue reaches of an infinite sky. The tree knew it existed and it told him so, it dwarfed him, even a hundred feet down the cliff it reached out and said 'I am' to him. He stood there listening, in awe, in reverence, and in love. Whistling to Ugly who was off chasing ground squirrels in the rock fall at the base of the cliff, he began the long hard climb up the southern slope where what passed as a trail ran among jutting and stacked boulders. The climb was long but not hard for every deep breath, every straining muscle was a reason for joy, a fact of life. At times he'd have to reach down and grab his dog and throw her up and over the next rock level, at times he'd let her find the path. And occasionally the damn leg would click and snap and he'd curse the bastard and use his arms where his legs should have done the work. But he kept climbing the cliff just as he'd done a handful of times before. Reaching the top he lay panting on an expanse of grainy rock quartz fractures that glistened like a galaxy, and he stared up at the sky and the white wispy clouds that let him feel swift movement in the earth. And in the warm sunshine of a delightful day he passed in and out of sleep just as if he were a part of the eternal play of events on this lonesome summit. Waking he could feel the heat of the sun on his layered clothing. Then drifting off into a trance like slumber he was aware of only the cool sweet flavor of the air that passed through his nose and deep, down into the endless lungs of his body. Each breath brought pleasure, and revived for him an awareness of things so close, yet lost to him in the sad passing of his numbered days. Finally the inebriation of the sharp air gave way to the growing heat of his insulated body and he sat up and took a long swig from the water bottle in his day pack. Then, shedding a jacket, he lay back again an stared up at The Tree, its branches spreading like the arms of a god embracing the sky. The clouds moved, the limbs beckoned him, and the wispy greenery of the Tree god enticed him like the the song of a siren, the call of a mermaid. And he drifted on the edges of love for the tree which rose straight and true into the heavens. In half dreams the tree spoke to him, and she laid upon him a quiet wisdom, a sad song of patience, a melancholy lament of a wondrous being that is almost eternal and at the same time so very vulnerable. It was a song he could understand and it gave him an answer to his deep state of despair. He rose in the waning light of an late winter afternoon, got himself together, walked to the tree and placed his hand on the the soft red corky bark and thought a simple thank you. Then he turned around and looked out at you and me, and said 'Hey thanks, I appreciate the life. But I'm leaving now. I understand a bit and that is a gift I should not question. I gotta move on.' He saunters off leaving us behind, and at the cliffs edge he turns and says 'Hey Brah, its been good, no? See you one time maybe on the outside break at Makapu'u And raising a hand he gives da Shaka sign, smiles a big one, and slips over the edge of one ono wave for to catch the ultimate drop. Aloha!