Thursday, December 6, 2012

Hillside

Shifting my focus beyond the edge of the laptop, I rest my gaze on Chincogan, oozing forth beneficence like lava. I’m probably just one of many to have sensed her invitation to stop a while, and be blessed by her deeply nourishing and earthy succour.

My new place in the world is slow and filled with light. It is pared back, simple, almost devoid of worldly possessions. It is a place between temporary destinations. What did I do to deserve such a perfect situation for the currently recurring themes of slowness, nothingness, and less?

It is without thought, without effort, that I slide into this slipstream tailor made for my purpose. However, I take responsibility. I come back to my pathway and inspect it, assessing as I go the best way to lay my foot down for the next step, for each new step.

A new step comes with each new moment. The light changes just slightly, blood pulses, breath moves, sounds come into and out of focus. Roosters crow, children smile, phone buzzes, lunches are made.

There is a bicycle waiting for me by the water tank. There are places to fly – the vegie patch to visit farmer Joey, the main street to collect a hook and a heart and perhaps some fish for dinner, the car garage to assess the cost of this U-turn of fate, this stop sign ... heeded within a sensation of stillness.

Chincogan is the view. She reminds me of my childhood, staring out to a hillock similar to this but featuring bald granite; into the side of it, a town and a safe loving home are nestled.