I am the Hawk, Soaring Over the Land

It is the second day of snow here on our land on Whidbey Island. Sometimes the cold, dark rainy weather keeps me inside most of the day. The snow lures me outside, to explore the landscape. I noticed the other day that there were still some wild rose hips that looked beautifully red and plump down in the thicket. Today I venture down there to harvest some, knowing full well that the Vitamin C in them is potent because of the cold.

They are so easy to pluck. And the blood red color stands brillant against the white snow and grayish red stalks. I start out gathering rose hips and think I will get bored easily. But there is something about rose that lures me into another realm. I forget this truth until I am here in this expanded version of life, where love and beauty reign.

There are at least three different species of wild rose that I am noticing. The very hard, small fruit are the most vibrant at this time of year. But I venture over to the place where the large, plump hips are hanging. As I am almost to the edge of our land, I look up and overhead comes a very large hawk in its winter garb. Mostly white, with flecks of brown.

I can tell the time by this hawk. It comes in the afternoon about 2:30 pm. It flies over the land and over the garden. I am fortunate to be here at this moment to witness its flight.

Out there on the land, as the sun is ending its fullness and beginning to wane, I feel a sense of connectedness with everything. I am the hawk, soaring over the land. I am the ruby red rose hips. I am the snow, the frozen cold. I am the sun waning and the darkness approaching. I am the earth mother old and dying and the gestating infant earth, held inside the deep dark holy womb.

I remember as I write this that I am held in total darkness as the light of my existence prepares for birth. I am thankful for this vision that peace is felt first before it is seen.

May it be in Beauty.