As I sat at breakfast this morning looking out the window of a charming New England inn in the White Mountains, I was struck by how the past few days of shooting fall foliage and tramping along moist paths of fallen leaves had calmed my soul. I hadn’t realized my stress level had been sneaking into the upper ranges.
Something I know about myself (and have known since the age of about 9) is that being in the out of doors speaks to me in ways that nothing else can. Dynamic lecturers, well written spiritual tomes, poetry, Rachmaninoff compositions…..none of it reaches deeply into my inner self the way that moments in a silent forest can do. All in connection with divine perfection.
This morning as I sat watching small birds pecking away at the last fruits of the season in a cottage garden, my mind and spirit were stilled and my roughly edged psyche was salved. I thought back to yesterday and the early morning dense fog surrounding me on a hilltop amongst dark and dead skeleton trees (hit by lightening?) and the peace that overcame me.
And in this stillness my cameras were by my side as patiently waiting as the peace that existed on that hilltop. Both waiting for me to call them into companionship with me and the moment. Inanimate black/silver friends who were willing comrades in this silent moment in the fog. “Lift us up!” “Let us share this moment with you!”
At the instant that the images were caught, I FELT the words that came to me as one at a time, the soft clicks of the cameras shared in the joy of the moment, “Peace, Be still.”