"An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day."

Henry David Thoreau

Hank and I met the morning with our usual pitter patter of feet and breath,  Hank sniffing the ground and me contemplating life.  We joined with the Divine as we decided which path to take, which street to choose, which object to focus upon with delight.

Our final walk-choice was based mostly upon the desire not to meet up with the dog-on-the-corner on this first walk of 2007. In that barely noticeable inhale-of-a-moment, our feet collectively veered to left rather than going straight.

My mind meandered more than my feet, landing for a moment on a conversation of "soul-ness" with My Muse. We have talked about soul-ness many times, mostly whispering from ear-to-ear.  It is as if speaking too loudly might break the sacredness open too wide for our human hearts to fathom.

I remembered a call I heeded while in Flagstaff.  "Interact with individuals as if they were your Muse" I heard. The first time I tried it I was at Barnes and Noble, about to order a cup of coffee and a scone.

Ironically right before I was to start, I realized my wallet wasn't in my purse, so I had to schlep across two parking lots to fetch it.

I tried again, and ordered coffee.  "Vente or grande?"  he asked.

I looked at him, allowing my soul-ness to begin to open.  Medium, whatever that is," I responded as he turned to honor my request.  He didn't seem to mind that I stubbornly refused to use the more-hip terminology he offered.

He turned back to me and we exchanged words and money. I took another deep breath and allowed my soul-ness to meet his.  I don't know if he knew or felt anything different in the exchange. I felt it so with such strength I had to look away because the tears filling my eyes were so hot.

Then on my walk - after veering left rather than going straight - I saw a man heading towards me on his bicycle.  This particular man is a familiar face in the neighborhood, one whose eyes I had not looked into for years, ever since he "hurt my feelings" five
years or so ago.

I had been holding onto anger towards him.

I heard, "Look at his soul-ness."

There was no way to escape, no way to say no.  It would be like trying to say no to the wind-blowing or the tide coming in.  I walked straighter and kept my head up. I knew this wasn't something I could flub or look away from and the soul-ness connection window would only be open for the time our eyes would meet as he rode past.

My walking soul-ness found his bicycle-peddling soul-ness in a flash of my blue eyes catching his as his being passed mine.

"Good morning" he said.

I smiled in response, hot tears flooding my eyes once again.

I shuddered in awe and kept moving, one foot in front of the other.  My feet veered to the right, to the other side of the street.

My favorite neighbor tree waited for me patiently. I heard my voice quietly exclaim, "oh!" in recognition. The tree had allowed some pine cones to fall right where I could joyfully scoop them up.

I heard, "I have been expecting you."

I smiled into the tree's center and lifted the pine cone, as if in a toast.

Pine cones are a wonder to me. They are bearers of life, holders of possibility. They say "Yes!" to the promise of becoming. They are passionate detachment made into form.

I lifted the pine cone to my nose and inhaled the scent of the center of the Earth, the soil that nurtured this tree and the pinecones from which this tree sprouted and the bearer of that original seed.  Backwards into time the scent carried me right into the pulse of this moment.

I held the pine cone to my heart and once again, the hot tears sprang to my eyes once again.

I felt cherished, divinely, as I embraced my blessing.