Impossible Beauty: Meditating on the Art

What is the beautiful, if not the impossible.

Gustave Flaubert 

 San Marcos, Questhaven, California. 

Hills full of singing birds. A silence such as one almost never hears. Lizards, rabbits, beetles, moles and squirrels walking and hopping and slithering about as if people did not exist or in any case were no threat. Because we really are no threat there. A young Coyote walks out of a bush and stares at me. A raven bigger than the bird feeder perches for a I meditate 6 or 8 times a day- I lose count, stop counting, have no need to count. Whenever I am doing anything other than meditating I am thinking of meditating, am slipping into casual, accidental meditations,  or stopping, breaking to walk over to the temple... to meditate. Everything not a meditation becomes  a break from meditating. Stopping to eat my soup, stopping to write, stopping to consult the map in search of a hiking trail...

 And then the inevitable return to the Source. The return to the Connection. It happens, cannot help but happen.

As city-dwellers, we struggle so to find enough time and space in each day to connect. As country-dwellers, we cannot help but mediate on all the beauty all around us.

For how can the beauty not inspire us to rethink what we thought was impossible? Beauty overwhelms precisely because it is so improbable-the incredible conflux of colors and shapes, the proximate and juxtaposed narrative of spider legs, tree bark, pebbles, and birdsong harmonies cannot help but cause us to question our narrow rules and expectations for life.

If all of that is possible, then certainly so are we and our little dreams.