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I finish early morning chores and traverse and trudge through the mushy mixture of cattle manure and slushy snow. The cattle herd stare and watch mesmerized as I walk past them with weighted boots. Eagles decorate the backwaters trees and appear as Christmas decorations so ornately hung by nature. I feel the flap of an immature Eagle that passes overhead and  the strength of it’s massive span. A cloudy morning with a temperature  reading of 35 degrees @ 6 AM is relished. 

Slopping, sliding and I am intentionally finding the loudest crunching ice to pop under my feet. It’s delicately frozen whisps of water frozen into thin slices of layers. Greenish, brown hues of murky backwaters lazily await the rays of Sunshine to emerge it to a softened state. I’m immersed in nothing and settling into everything. I sing the ancient song and I’m so far gone. It’s a pathless path I’ve traversed thousands of times. It’s pure thought, which isn’t true and I’m everyone I’ve ever  met and I see it all before me. I’m the mirror of you and what you like in me is in you too.What you don’t like in me is in you too and it’s all good. When you have no judgement of me and see the whole world as orderly, in place, good and remove all barriers to your mind-you’re there. I’ll meet you wherever you are and it’s all clear as the glistening stars. It’s utter rapture and pure bliss to be where time stands still and miracles un-fold in every moment. It’s living in Heaven on Earth.

My hands are before me and accept the morning with appreciation. Big Bend has proven to be a gathering spot this week for Eagles varying in maturity. They fly with tenacity up the Trempealeau River and seem to bellyflop on the ice as they soar low to the ice and with flaps of their wings they are lifting and soaring and circling me as I melt with my every step. I turn back and there’s no footprints over the still frozen snow. Squirrel  chatters his morning greeting and clambors away. I’m saying mantras and deep dimples of knowedge melt and wash over me as I sing and the soft raindrops gently start to drip dreamily to the Earth. I raise my fingertips up-ward and outstretch my hands and this time the Sandhill Cranes landed. I felt their weight  land in my hands. They tweedled and walked ahead of me and followed the worn path and stood under the tree where I stood many mornings before. I walked in their tracks while they walked to the left of my path melted and crushed into the snow. It was a primal connection as we eyed eachother with Texas in their eyes and amazement in mine. They trilled their Welcome Home song as we walked along and stood together @ the edge of Sunrise Slough.  Red Tailed and Kestril Hawks joined the welcoming of the Cranes, Robins and Bluebirds.

Do you know what it means to know  this bliss? I’d love to hear from you in a private e-mail.

Open the Gift of the Present,

Sue Roskos