We Only Pass Once

Heron fishing.  Photo by Richard Hayes.

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A THREAD OF LIGHT VIII. First Day of Autumn, September 22, 2013

We only pass once, but

these rivers of ours continue.  What we

leave they hold in their cold foam,

their flowing silken motion.  Let us

create ourselves while we still understand

what it means to be alive here, alone

and not alone, in a one-time only Paradise.

The only Infernos here are of our own

making, when we go blind with fear,

when we can’t hear the lullaby of the

waters or feel how the Sun wants us

to be warm and happy.  With our choices

why not be simple and take what the river

gives today and live as well as the

beavers live without complaint?  We all

know who we are if we think about it.

Our nature can always tell us what

we should be doing if we listen,

if we trace the signs.  There aren’t

any excuses if even one tree

releases the gold locked in its cells

and falls gently toward the river

that gives it to drink, grateful,

solemn, in earnest, because gold

light, and orange at the edges, are

what sun taught the sap long

before light arrived to bless this

gift of the cells, of the tree Self,

of the wisdom at rest in the roots.

Beaver Soul 29, Devon, 1992

It isn’t so much what you believe in

as that you do believe.  Doubts creep

in when your attention lapses–insidious,

deepening distrust of yourself, the life

you live, the work you do.  The created

order has the answer to despair.  Too

much rain did its worst, starving the

roots of oxygen, nurturing downy mildew, 

rotting the vines of cucumber and tomato,

yellowing their leaves.  The trees let go

their leaves as they fought to breathe.

I grieved for spoiled fruit, the rampant

growth of weeds.  Garden and orchard

seemed doomed.  Only the green beans

and the figs stuck it out.  Then sun

lifted the scourge.  The cucumbers

began to lengthen.  I spotted tomatoes

turning red among their tangled vines

and weeds.  Leaves returned to the

apricot; the smallest apple tree bloomed

in September.  Our climate may be

whimsical, but there are deeper 

principles at work in the Universe.

Death is an ever-present reality, but 

hardly the whole story.  Plants teach us.  

Trees hold seminars in survival.  

Take in rain when it falls. Wait for 

sun.  Life turns emphatic: Grow!  

To despair is to miss out on the rewards 

of holding on, anticipating a resurgence 

of the will to live and flourish, 

to give one’s last strength to fruit.