I Know Nothing…..

I pick a book off my shelf seeking a message for the day. It turns out to be A Course In Miracles, a book that I haven’t studied in many many years.  I ask a personal question about relationship, center myself deeply inside, and open the book where I am led.  The message this morning is about entering each moment as if we “know nothing”, as if all that we think we know about the present from our past experience doesn’t exist. This opens each moment to being completely new and full of all kinds of possibilities, even magic.  This sounds like good advice.  So, armed with my new mantra (“I know nothing”) I start out on my morning walk, ready to relate differently to the world outside.

The first thing I notice is how much I assume I know about the birds, grasses, flowers, sky, prairie dogs, trees, etc. I realize I have them all completely defined, boxed, categorized, and named, expecting exactly this or that from each one. They have no room to be any different than what my mental hologram projects onto them.  All this information feels heavy and burdensome like a big box of stuff I have to carry around and sort through all the time.  Let’s lighten the load, I think.

As I look at the red-winged blackbird, I say, “I know nothing about you”.  I feel myself lighten, realizing what a prison I had held him in up until now.  He’s now free to show me whatever he wishes to.  I open, and his song comes alive and thrills my body.

I stop my walk and sit under a tree and offer tobacco and corn meal to the birds, plants, trees, and the elements, remembering how Oscar, my Shamanic teacher, had taught me about right relationship with the unseen world of Nature.  I thank them for revealing their magic, and ask for their forgiveness for imprisoning them for so long in my arrogant assumptions.

I notice some lavender flowers in a small patch down the trail.  The color is delicious, but I confess to myself and the plant, “I know nothing about this color, lavender, not really”.  After soaking in that “not knowing” for several minutes, I open more and the energy of the color feeds my body and soul through my eyes, healing something unknown to me.

I approach a part of the path that I normally hurry through, always considering it just open dry space that tends to repeat itself…..a bit brownish for my elfin nature, perhaps.  And besides, I’m getting close to home now and anticipating some breakfast morsel.   As I come parallel to a small field of tall yellow flowers, I stand still and tell them, “I know nothing about you”.  This time, to my amazement, they answer.  What a marvelous gift.  They let me know, as they stand straight and tall waving in the breeze, that they are standing and waiting for me to conduct their song of movement. Like a choir director, I stand before them, all eyes on me.  Now, the marvel here is not that they actually move as I direct them, but that I can feel each and every plant in this grouping is in deep relationship with me.  They know me and want to play with me. I linger here a long while, soaking this feeling of connectedness deep into my human beingness, letting it counter the eons of separateness.

I contemplate this lesson on relationship as I continue walking. It seems that in the cauldron of the present moment an ever-new creative play is taking place.  We are continuously being invited to enter, and play there with each other deeply, and show each other our magic.  But, if we make assumptions about each other, entry isn’t possible. The cauldron of Presence evaporates. The entry ticket is my new mantra, “I know nothing of who you are in this new moment”.  Then the possibilities open and the magic begins. Too bad we are often hanging out in the fears of the past and the future and missing all the fun.

Oh, yes, I am feeling very satisfied with my morning lesson, and the new-found ability to commune deeply with Spirit in nature.  I am floating home, understanding how a child feels as it discovers its new world.  Then, my eyes are drawn downward where I learn that right next to me, not 12 inches away, stretched out along the edge of the trail, is a 3 foot long yellow-brown snake.  I jump away, startled, and wait for him to move away too, as snakes often do.  Instead, he doesn’t move at all, as if challenging me to walk past him.  I pass him quickly, but must make an immediate right onto a side path to get home. This puts me face to face with him, still only a foot away.  I want to linger and tell him, “I don’t know you at all”, and see what he has to show me, but all the information stored in my DNA screams a big “NO” to this idea.  We do lock eyes for a moment, though, and he sticks his fangy split tongue out at me, as if saying, “So you think you can return to the innocence of Eden, and know nothing again! Try playing with me there!” Humbled, I hurry on my way.

June 6, 2012