I sat in her classroom many times over the course of three magical years. Our first meeting came during the fall of 2005. It was November, the most overcast month of the year…and it was a time in my life that I was in-between two worlds - one I had walked away from…and the other, I was still too scared to embrace.
You see, a few months earlier, at the age of forty-seven, I resigned from a twenty-three year career in state government. I was too young – too young to retire and too young to sacrifice any more years to “perceived professionalism”; too young to live with my back to the sunshine that had little chance of shining inside a ten by ten cubicle – no matter how close I sat to a window.
And so, with the full support of my wife, Joan, and after many years of preparation (getting out of debt and saving pennies)…I quit. We sold our house in the development and moved to a place where pavement doesn’t impede a thirsty earth from drinking, where Nature’s classroom is always open and the faculty is happy with their pay and working environment. I wanted to spend six months in Nature’s Presence…and now, three and a half years later, I remain…in awe of her Presence and her presents.
For me, November 2005 was a time of staying oh so very busy, a tactic I used to avoid dealing with what needed to be dealt with, in order to grow in the direction of my new sun. Sitting still was out of the question. I had left the only world I knew, and fear joined me for coffee each morning. Quieting the chatter in my mind, which had lost its’ sense of equilibrium, was not an option – not unless it was silenced by a reality that slapped the meaningless words and pictures from my mind…and that’s what happened…
It was like the haunting call of a loon just before dawn on a fog-covered lake; or the striking of a Tibetan singing bowl, whose reverberations send peace-filled ripples to rescue an out of control mind…or the giggle of a four-year-old child, which changes everything…for a time.
But this new teacher hooked my attention without making a sound – no words were uttered…she just appeared at the right time and place as I hung from a fragile branch on yesterday’s tree – ripe for the picking.
And as I sat before her podium, my mind fell away, leaving me in the place where words have no meaning or purpose – a place called Providence. And in this perfect state, where judgments, opinions, and cultural masks do not exist, I was ready to receive her gift.
She changed the way I see...everything.
She taught me as I observed her living her life. And her lesson was clear: what we think will prevent life from being lived, is just that – a thought...and thoughts, often times, have no basis in reality.
She became a role model for me - she inspired and awed because…she survived. She survived for three years, in spite of having lost such a big part of what makes living possible in the forest of life. She was a yearling when we first met and she unintentionally posed for a number of portraits that will live on for as long as I live…and hopefully will live on and become a part of my own sons and grandchildren as they retell the story born from a cold, depressed November morning.
Her gift was not wrapped in golden paper, nor was it a carefully constructed lesson plan developed by a team of credentialed suits. What she showed me was that life is lived by those who cannot see what others think will hold them back – they live because no one has ever told them that life cannot be lived that way. They thrive using whatever gifts they learn to nurture.
What limits us, in most all that we will ever think or do during the course of our life, is not determined by those who only see our weaknesses, without ever seeing or understanding what is ever more powerful – our strengths. When we focus upon our strengths, and let others worry about perceived weaknesses, there are no limitations. This is where Providence patiently awaits; this is where a three-legged deer worries not about her future – this is where life is really lived…
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