My recent visit to Kentucky had me taking walks with my sister-amiga, Brodie, and their two dogs. One of the dogs led us to a wooded area at the end of the cul-de-sac where they live.
The area has a path into this leaf floored, shaded
woods. The mossy smells, the floral mix
of new wet, fresh decay of old leaves, tall bushes filled with small daisies
that were reaching up for the last bit of sun and soon we found a ceiling of
trees holding tight to their Autumn splendor.
The further we walked the deeper breaths I took, and my soul felt
joyful. Deeper into the wooded path there
was a natural circle surrounded by trees that were embraced and laced by vines, and
the sunlight found its way through the diamond cast leaves into this beautiful
circle - and it was there that I saw the hand of man.
In this beautiful area were two mattresses, bottles, cans,
various trash and a rotting sign.
“Who would do this?” I asked Kim.
She explained that a few years ago the neighbors set up a
tent in the area – an 8-man tent brought out their camping gear and more. Camped and left many of the items there. Including the 2 thin mattresses. After many months, close to a year, they finally
felt a little shame and hiked the small trail to take down the tent, left the
mattresses, and then it looked as if squatters had taken up the spot.
I asked, “Does your trash allow bulk pick-up?”
“I think so, she replied, but it was the neighbors across
the street and it will look like we’re trying to ‘prove a point’ or shame
them.”
“I don’t care,” I responded, “I’ll be happy to drag it out
and they can blame it on me.”
I consulted with her husband when he came home, and he stated
a similar train of thought. The
neighbors would be offended.
He and I walked back to the wooded area and he said, “I can
take you to another spot that doesn’t have all of this trash so you can have
your meditation there, if you’d like.”
“No,” I said, “This is the spot. Can we clean it up?”
He and I spent the next half-hour filling trash bags, he
moved the mattresses to the edge of the wooded area by a fence where they were
out of sight and the area felt… right.
It was while we were cleaning, that I noticed the many wild
vines that had shot from the ground. Around
me I could see the many years of vines that have wrapped and laced together,
creating amazing patterns and swirls among and around the trees. I also found many, many lone vines that, in
finding no way to grow up or attach to a tree, they grew in circles and circles
and eventually just choked itself out.
I pondered that – knowing that if wild vines do not find the opportunity to grow up and onto, they keep growing in circles and then died. A few times, I found a live vine, seemingly
starting its circling, and I would gently unwrap the thick coils and lead them towards
(or onto) a tree, as Nic (Kim’s husband), was pulling up the decomposing sign
and putting it into trash bags.
Reflecting on the vines, I knew the similarities between
these vines and people are striking. There
are so many vines that shoot up and have no direction, find nothing to grow
towards, or on, and circle back, over and over, until they can grow no more. Alternatively, there are those vines who peek
through the decay and earth’s floor and grow towards, onto, and keeps growing -
onward and up.
My wish is to be the vine in the latter portion of my
musings. To grow towards, attach to,
lace among the other vines and grow up – reach towards the light – live.
I have been so thankful for my time here in Kentucky. Not only because of the time I get with friends/family or the opportunity to reset my soul
before I begin my new adventure; but, with
these blessings, I was awed by the vines showing me a parable of my own life. They are a gentle sign to me, and I am still
in wonder of their lesson.
May your vine find its path.
May you grow, dear ones. May you
reach, touch, become your beautiful part of the all – may you grow.
- Simone
