I've decided to give the oak/river documentation postings different titles that speak to the mood of the day. Oak energy is very solid and UNmoody. But water is another story. And in other moodiness quadrants of ongoing reality this day was profoundly challenging in a thoroughly sucky sort of way. It was, in fact, the perfect occasion to make a point of giving myself respite with an Oaken interlude.
The river spoke a language of steady movement and reflected sunlight. Because I wanted more time for exploration and personal healing I visited this spot about two hours later in the day. That meant I could linger at will instead of sticking to schedule and roadway timings. There was a stiff little breeze and I imagine the water was plenty chilly. Ducks were following the current in medium sized groups. To paint the river today I would choose indanthrone blue and build a palette from it. The breeze tested and trounced the wind resistant fabric of my windbreaker. It was strong enough to leave me spontaneously swallowing my breath as I walked straight into it.
I was the only person walking around on this side of the bridge. In my solitude I moved directly to the water's edge. I wanted to make sure I started including images of a pretty inlet that never fails to capture my eyes' imagination when I see it from the road. I took my time just looking and then letting my eyes gradually blur what I saw to a puddle of payne's gray. Then I turned to study the sharp hill down from the road with plant geek eyes; already those eyes are hungry for a preview of next year's landscape, mother nature style.
I shut my eyes and hummed in a steady tone. I'm not sure it harmonized with any other sounds but that didn't seem to matter. be like water, I kept reminding myself. just...be like water.
Plenty more ducks were traveling further east along the river. I believe this is the first shot where it's clear the rolling hills travel in both directions. I like hills. They're more accessible, in every way, than mountains and I've spent a lot more time among them. Standing still and wondering how many species of ducks I was not quite seeing - I let my eyes soften in slow degrees while my shoulder and neck muscle did the same. I was at peace. Anything is possible, I realized. If it's rooted in the heart to grow steadily and with proper care from within.
When I returned to the oaks they seemed to put out a tractor beam. Tell us, they beckoned. In response I walked directly to them and circled so I was facing east. Looking at today and the future. Turning my back with abrupt resolve on the past. TELL US. I said out loud that I was very tired. As I spoke I placed a palm on each trunk. VERY. TIRED.
YES the trees agreed. I noticed I'd automatically moved to mirror the first/last time I touched the trunks. My receiving and projecting hands were switched in terms of what I felt and gave to the separate tree energies. I kind of felt a flare of interest to notice that but mostly I was still primarily being one with my fatigue level. It was a relief to just let myself feel it - the pile upon pile of emotional and psychic overload that's become the hallmark of something about my ongoing life that I cannot change or resolve. It's quite seriously the precise kind of exhaustion that might attract a pair of oak trees' attention when I first got out of the car to gaze upon and photograph the river.
Maybe none of this was ever a simple whim of mine at all. Maybe oaken magic of worldwide legends are remembered, told and loved because the magic's so powerfully strong and unshakably true to itself.
Their trunks pulsed with a vibrancy that travelled from my fingertips throughout my body: Strength. Endurance. Absolutely no question of ever coming close to hitting a wall. Not. Ever.
I could get used to this. I thought that and then my brain switched off while the oaks communed directly with my body. The trunks seemed to emit an energy that vibrated directly within my spine. In that thrall I squared my body's center of gravity and placed my feet so they were perfectly aligned with my hands. Then I very slowly leaned backwards into my spine's incremental bending. The oaks facilitated a means to work into, and maintain, cobra pose. I realized this in a crystalized moment of certainty and then my thinking (and monkey) brain shut all the way down. I simply hung there. Yoga lovers imagine this - cobra pose without the gravity component. Just ... hanging ever into it while fresh and revitalized vertical energy flow unknots and unlocks itself one vertebrae at a time. I began a slow count and when I reached what I know my floor-based limit to be I started very slowly moving my spine out of the curve. The oaks continued to pulse under my palms. They held me steady during the phase where I was still hanging in air and the winds blew ballast into my lower spine. Its force engineered the mechanics of the curve as it un-curved in a manner as fluid as my earlier spontaneous healing advice to myself via Buddha: be like water.
Thank you for coming around and bearing witness to the best part of this day on my end. Because it was very good indeed.