In all its stillness, the air is very full out on the porch of Rivendell Writer’s Colony near Sewanee, Tennessee. Atop the mountain this beautiful setting overlooks the deep narrow canyon called Lost Cove. On this morning the sounds of nature bring a soft symphony embracing and dancing in the forest. So alive! A beetle gives a sudden high-pitched drum roll, something like what you learn to do with your tongue when you try to learn to speak Spanish. Birds sing melodiously, and others chirp a still, certain note. My redbird sings in the forest somewhere, continuing to playfully elude me with only his call…not a glimpse yet of the flash of red. I look, my eyes search, but the only red around is on my painted toes. He knows. He will appear at the right moment…close I hope!
Tall trees extend their branches, reaching out together to hold and embrace the world around. Intertwined they make a beautiful design. How long have they stood beside Lost Cove keeping watch? Staid and steady, they sway only gently with the breeze. I’m sure they have weathered many a storm. Yet they still reach for the skies and have learned how to bend without breaking.
An earthen clay vessel sits ready on the table, it’s mouth open to the mountain air, ready to be filled. The jar looks a bit worn. But it’s beautiful that way actually, in the same way my grandmother’s hands were beautiful. They both have much to express about life well lived. The old pot sits atop the table so very still, patiently awaiting its filling so that once again it can be poured out. I especially love the reflection that falls across the glass upon which it sits. The picture says that the clay jar does not sit alone.
It’s beautiful here in this moment. I feel that I am being nourished, fed…my heart wide open. I want to be down in the very base of Lost Cove. I want to experience the fullness of its beauty way down deep , where still waters flow. I want to know the depths of the cove’s intimacy. It’s a long way down, but it’s the only way to fully know. People come from many places to reach this mountain top and be found by Lost Cove, again and again and again. Suddenly a squawking, wide-winged hawk soars above, surveying the terrain. The bird’s voice proclaims quite loudly, “Lost can be beautiful in the arms of Creation! Breathe deeply, and let yourself be fully present. Ride the wind. Receive the gift of this day!”
As the clouds of Heaven settle into Lost Cove for the night, the sun sets in glorious color. Sweet dreams….you have been found!
nk
nk moments 