Today I came out the grocery store to greet a beautiful spring morning. Overcast and cool, the air was filled with singing birds and low drone of small town traffic in the early hours. Suddenly, I was hit with the memory of the same place as I experienced it in the dead night of winter. Cold, dark and desolate, it seemed like a very different place. But is it? Is this place a function of the weather it encounters? What about the buildings? 10 years ago, the parking lot was a back alley, high with weeds, cut by a dirt path formed by generations of foot-falls. This place is very clear to me, but the day, season, weather and urbanization are in continual flux.
In fact, the character of this place is subtle and unseen. At any one moment, each of these factors are part of the experience of the location, but the place is not these things. Thinking back later in the day, it still seems impossible to put a description to the ever present thread that cut through that parking lot, but its presence is undeniable. Is this Meton's "Rabbitness of God", or Zen's "original face before your parents were born"?
I realize now, that this indescribable, subtly perceivable character is not confined to the parking lot of my grocery store. It pervades everywhere, although most of the time I don't perceive it.
Stopping and breathing in the moment, I think to myself, "Spring has arrived". But the inherent beauty of the experience; the canvas on which these paints settle and dry is always present, containing the entire universe, following everywhere.
No comments:
Post a Comment