What the Landscape Taught Me Today

 

I walked along one of the trails near my house  with a loose intention to receive any lessons the landscape had to offer. I took pictures along the way and tried to hold an open unthinking mind. I am fortunate to have trails very close by that within twenty minutes take me into the foothills and impart a feeling of being far away from civilization. Today workers from the water company were laying new pipe to replace the storage tanks that hold water at the trail head in case of fire. I felt a little tinge of annoyance at having my views disrupted by technology but continued on my way. It was a cool morning but sunny, ideal for being outside and I breathed the fresh air in deeply. Among the experiences on this hike: a plant pretty much shouted: “eat me!” and so I did. It was beautiful green and white and very tasty, a variation of dandelion I suspect.

I found my eye drawn to what I think of as earth art, particularly striking arrangements of bits of stuff and I photographed a few of those. Each time I took a photo I felt a glowing or shining sense that I experience as a subtle energy of joy. That quality of noticing something beautiful and having that which is beheld shine back, much the way when we smile at someone that person usually smiles back. I experience this sort of ‘call and response’ when I make art and it is exciting to begin to notice it in nature. I made an offering in return.

I rested at my favorite spot and ate a snack and watched the clouds, they too, spoke, reminding me of the filaments of mycelia and the use of that concept in Avatar (see last post). I like to think that we all have wispy filaments of energy that connect us to those we love and we send energy to them and receive energy that way because all of us, living and those who have passed on, are enwrapped in a tissue of care together. I find myself utterly calmed and rejuvenated by this kind of a hike.

I climbed back down the trail after what seems like hours but wasn’t. This time I noticed the earth art made by the machinery used to grade the area so the newly constructed tanks could be installed.

Now the machine looked alive to me.

Now I felt a welling up of gratitude for the workers installing the pipe, the engineers who figured out how to do all this and everyone who is responsible for the amazing fact that I filled my water bottle by simply turning a tap in my kitchen sink this morning before I began my hike.  I spoke to the two men working on the project and asked to photograph the valve, a beautiful sculpture.

They explained that there is already built in a larger valve in case there is a need to expand the water service in the future. Next week the old rusted tank will be dismantled and I’d like to go and watch. This kind of patient care for infrastructure is something I usually take for granted and yet every day depend upon.  The skilled workers who design and install and care for these structures are as much my beloved kin as the plants, the trees and the rocks. This is what the landscape taught me today.