The Shining Sun of Awareness
A bright, white, star shining amongst the debris of last year's life. Golden centered it reaches towards the sun, it's red, root, anchored deep in the forest floor. Bloodroot.
I stop on the trail to gaze at it, seemingly so out of place in its home of drab, brown, crunchy leaves. It is regal and vibrant, a miniature queen in a wasteland. I want to capture this moment in my mind, a pointless grasping at the ever moving flow of the forest.
It's only in bloom for a few days each year, and here it is. Right now, at this balance point of our planet between the extremes of the solstices. There's enough warmth and light below the trees at this precious time - just before they leaf out - for bloodroot to express the fullness of itself.
Soon it will be gone again and I'll have to wait for another revolution around the Sun to see it again. In the sweet, cool, air of this Spring morning I'm aware of the desire to cling to these moments. A subtle tugging at the edges of my awareness of something about to be "lost" that I must "save". My photographing the flower is an act of desperation, an expression of the fear that I may forget, that we may forget. I am aware that as Summer bursts in and rolls all over everything that the Spring ephemerals will be overshadowed.
The dogs urge me onwards, keenly looking for what's next, I follow their noses up the trail, acutely aware of this place of pause around the Equinox. A moment in the year where we are not moving away or towards something, teetering at a fulcrum point. This balancing of polar opposites is as easy to miss as these fleeting forest flowers.
Two of our cats joined me on the walk today. They won't come into the forest on their own but love to come with me. Their presence helps me slow down, I need to make sure they are with me, if we get separated they'll freeze and I'll have to come back looking for them later. We communicate with high pitched "mews" through the trees. At some point along the way they both go quiet and I have to stop and look around for them. I find one sitting in a hollow and the other on a branch we cut to clear the trail, they are both looking behind me. No amount of "mewing" encourages them to move. I surrender and sit down facing the same way they do.
Right in front of us the sun is coming up over the east mountain. It's over the ridge line, and has just entered that liminal zone behind the trees - it's up but not fully visible yet. I watch it shimmer through the trunks for a handful of moments before it bursts into full view.
Ah yes! I re-remember the lesson I've forgotten a thousand times. I'm walking around worrying about missing the precious moments rather than being present for the precious moment as it happens! Thank you cat teachers.
I see in that morning sun the yellow heart of Bloodroot and the golden light of my attention. I have this gift of awareness, I can place it on anything I choose, generate grief, gratitude, wonder, despair or whatever - if I remember to choose.
The Bloodroot bloom will fade, drawing all the goodness it gained back into its highly medicinal root. The Sun will fade back into the dark and my attention will fade back into the subconscious as I walk on and at some point I'll remember to bring myself back to full consciousness and weave the two worlds together a little more.
What teachers help you remember to shine the sun of your attention where you choose?