Be Here Now

November 13, 2012

Outside is unbelievably beautiful, with the snow-covered fields and hillsides, the green pines and the red roads showing through the snow. But one does not take much time to contemplate this beauty. Dorothy Day 

It was a beautiful day in the Valley yesterday. Bright sun. Crisp air. Snow-capped mountains. 

But all I wanted to do was read Mary Oliver and John O’Donohue. I wait all week for the endless opportunities of Monday Desert Day’s and there I was sitting in the dark library, subjecting myself to the distractions of community members milling around, in order to read just one more of these poets’ brilliant observations of the natural world.

You would have noted the irony before I did, no doubt. But, thankfully, it finally did occur to me that I could be making my own brilliant observations of the natural world in this very moment!

And so, I headed out on foot toward town. (Coming Attraction: A photo tour of the infamous Town of Crestone, with commentary, of course.)

Shortly into my walk up Rendezvous Way I spotted a fox step onto the path about 50 yards ahead. It spotted me too (or heard my boots crunching on the gravel path) and looked behind. We both stared at one another in total stillness. I don’t know which one was more frightened by the other’s presence, but I can attest to my own rapid heart rate. (Have I lived too long in the city?) 

Mary Oliver has a great respect for the fox, as she does all of nature's inhabitants. Yet, she admits, "they are neither adorable, or charming, or cute." The young foxes "chew bones and sticks, and each other. They growl. They play with feathers. They fight over food, and the strongest eats more and more often than the weakest. They have neither mercy nor pity. They have one responsibility- to stay alive, if they can, and be foxes. They grow powerful, and thin, and more and more toothy, and more and more alert." Blue Pastures 

Graciously, I waited for the fox to continue on before I took another step. It did, only to stop again after a few feet at the sound of my footsteps to note my location.  We’d begin our staring contest again, I’d win, again, and the fox would continue on. After a few rounds of this dance, the path curved and it was out of sight. I decided taking an immediate left onto Chaparral Way would make for a much more “scenic” walk.

It’s gotten much colder since my earlier walks around the Valley- my pace was now quickened to keep warm and my vision narrowed with the addition of a hood. In my mind swam drafts of journal entries and blog posts, revisions of conversations past, and lists of books waiting for my return. There could have been a dozen foxes surrounding me and I wouldn’t have noticed.

And then, I looked up and saw it.

 What do you see? The mountains in the distance? The landscape's gentle flow of color?

Here’s what I saw:

How funny. Is a stop sign really necessary at the intersection of Chaparral & Rendezvous, I thought? And one in each direction, no less! I’ve yet to encounter a single car during my walks on those gravel paths; and the chance meeting of two cars at that intersection would be a rare sight to see. No, I decide. One, let alone two stop signs are not at all necessary at this juncture.

And then I thought, maybe the sign isn’t there for the cars.

Maybe it’s there for the pedestrian distracted by her thoughts- of things to come and things gone by.

Maybe, in the tiniest of print, it’s saying:

STOP. Be present. Look around at what’s here, what’s now.

I’m a pretty adaptable person- maybe the result (or the cause) of my many moves. And this adaptability is a pretty helpful quality for navigating life’s twists and turns.

But there’s a downside.

It’s amazing how quickly I’ve adapted to this place. This enormous, pristine, glorious place. Somehow, in the course of 12 short days, it’s gone from breath-taking to almost banal. And now, if- as I walk from building to building- I notice the mountains ahead of me, I certainly don't appreciate their presence.

Yes, I decide. The stop sign is entirely necessary. Without it, I would be in serious danger.

When the world going on inside our heads becomes more real than the world outside, we have problems. Eric Haarer, Nada Carmelite