“Mindfulness is about love and loving life. When you cultivate this love, it gives you clarity and compassion for life, and your actions happen in accordance with that.” ~ Jon Kabat-Zinn.

As I approach the end of my first year of retirement, I have to give thanks for a full and fulfilling twelve months.  I have not done those things which I ought to have done (like declutter my house, or publish another volume of Friday Morning Messages), but I have had a lot of fun!  One thing I have done a lot of is cover many miles, traveling to Georgia and Jamaica, Canada and currently, my latest adventure, California (hence the late start!).

Although I am a writer, I don’t journal, so I am not able to refer back to my notes to see how many miles we have traveled, or which states we have visited, but thanks to social media and photographs with metadata, I am able to track my progress around the globe.  And give thanks for the ability to travel, to appreciate with all my senses, and to have no disabilities to have to take into account.  I recently saw an interview with a woman who, despite considerable physical neuromuscular disabilities has gone white-water rapids kayaking in the Colorado River.  Her goal, she says, is to demonstrate that she is ‘the same person as before the disability’. 

I am not sure that I am ready for any ‘white-knuckle adventures’, but the challenge is to face opportunities and grab them with both hands, for I am sure there will come a day when I am not able to do so.  Yesterday, while indulging in Redwood Forest Therapy, there was an earthquake alert that flashed on my phone, quickly followed by a tsunami alert. What? Walking through a forest of the tallest trees I have ever seen, smelling that unique forest smell, hearing the babble of a small stream bustling over a waterfall, it was hard to imagine that danger was anywhere in sight.  We were more concerned with the weather (a cool 47 in the shaded glade), our ability to hike (and stay on, as the warnings kept telling us) the trail, and how to capture the immenseness of these giants in a meaningful way. 

We found the General Armstrong tree (the oldest in the forest, 1400 years old and over fourteen feet in diameter) and then (in memory of my father) the Parson Jones tree, which was the tallest tree (310 feet) in the forest.  There is something absolutely reassuring about being surrounded by trees that have stood there for more than one millennium.  They pay no attention to politics, to daily struggles, to worries.  They simply stand, exchanging carbon dioxide with oxygen, absorbing nutrients, weathering the storms.  And yet they too are threatened by environmental threats. 

Four years ago, the LNU Lighting Complex fire burned for almost seven weeks, destroying 156 homes and blackening almost 600,000 acres over five counties.  In the Armstrong Redwood forest, it burnt Douglas fir and other trees  that crowded the redwoods.  There is evidence of charred trees still standing, and hollowed out shells of blackened trees collapsed on the forest floor.  And yet that disaster provided room for the redwoods to grow with less competition for sunlight and nutrients.  Everywhere in the forest is evidence of new growth, small branches sprouting, new trees pushing up.  Nature responded to the death and destruction by starting over, by rebooting.

When we emerged from the forest and drove back into the small town nearby (once called ‘Stumptown’ because so many redwoods were chopped down for the lumber industry), we were still receiving tsunami alerts.  Our GPS warned us that our drive home could be affected.  But in the town, as we talked to the friendly locals, we saw no evidence of panic, did not even overhear conversations about it.  And so, like the locals, we partook of hot drinks, unbothered by the possibility of a 7.0 earthquake some 200 miles away, and the potential tsunami. 

There is something different about California, at least the people (and the trees!), they just go about their lives unfazed by what life throws at them.  The friendly locals told us that just the previous week the roads in that town were flooded, rain every day.  I overheard a man telling a tale of trying four different ways to get to work but eventually giving up, as each way was impassable.  One lady had almost lost her home in the same Forest Fire that tore through Armstrong, all part of life.  As we discussed the earthquake of that morning, and heard about plates and pushing forces, we realized that we had indeed felt something earlier, a slight rolling of the ground beneath us.  I had thought perhaps I had turned too quickly, felt a little dizzy.  So now I can say I have experienced my first earthquake!

We were told of the amazing scenic beauty down by the coast (tsunami not withstanding), that the drive south along that road is breathtaking.  And so we decided to chance it, after all, surely the roads would be blocked off if the threat was real.  And breathtaking it was.  We stood high above the crashing surf, jagged rocks being battered but not bothered by the thunderous roar as the waves pounded in.  Arched rocks showed evidence of centuries of pounding, seagulls perched atop them, telling us that they were not bothered by threats of tsunamis. 

When you are open to possibilities and opportunities, you are able to have meaningful conversations with total strangers, and recognize that people are basically friendly, curious, and generous.  When you accept life’s challenges as temporary, you can face disaster with equanimity.  When you gaze at giant redwoods, and pose for photographs dwarfed by their size, you can gaze with equal calmness at your own life, and see how we are all part of this giant organism that is our planet.

This Friday morning I hope that you are also able to face your own troubles with some perspective.  I can once more recommend the power of nature to point you towards serenity.  And if you get a chance to travel to a place you have never been before, take it! The more horizons you can gaze at, the wider your world view becomes.

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.