Bu raced ahead…always ahead.
The three ancient cottonwoods on either side of the road are always an alluring stopover for Bu…must be a popular p-mail café for local dogs on their wanders.
As I approached the northern most tree, I could feel the grandeur of its size and age, and I was struck by how its energy grabbed me. I stopped instantly, still shrouded in the pervading quiet of the surrounding morning, and what took me was the sound this tree was making on this seemingly motionless morning. It was as if I’d walked into a cathedral of the Divine…every leaf was singing... out of deep and utter stillness.
How could this be?
I looked around and saw no evidence of wind or breeze, which my mind insisted was the cause. The other two cottonwoods further down the empty road seemed to have no movement or sound.
Only this one, and I stood within its majestic embrace.
This tree cathedral, like St. Patricks Cathedral in NYC that I stood in just weeks ago, was a host for wonder and wisdom...and all those who entered were captured by a kind of paradoxical candor….here a fluttering stillness offered singing out of silence.
I remembered the sermon about the Great Spirit’s power to empty us…and then to fill us again.
There beneath the golden glow of the Cottonwood’s chorus, I experienced a kind of emptiness in me being filled.
As I began to walk again I wondered how many more days it would be before this glorious tree being would be empty of her leaves…and her song.
I whispered my thanks.