iMoments

Ah, Grasshopper. . .

our modern world lacks patience,

particularly as our electronics cater to the moment,

a few seconds of wait on the computer

can feel interminable:

each click should spell whatever next we want,

immediately,

watch the stars at night,

at first it’s a static snapshot,

the wheels of star and Moon and Sun

turn so slowly that we move on

before we notice the movement of that slow unveiling,

at the dawning of a new day

I work to be there and to feel the wholeness of the transformation,

we’re usually told that 

when the sun actually rises above the horizon 

is the time of sunrise,

as if the climax is all to care about,

I like to get out on the east shoulder of the mountain in the dark

and appreciate black velvet pinpricked by brilliant stars,

I love the patient transformation of black to blued gray to rose,

as if a play unfolds before us 

with differentiation slow and steady as shape and color

softly release back into perception,

plants also teach the rewards and pains of moments in the future

the present only hints at being able to reach,

particularly trees who can readily live across generations,

I planted chestnut trees about 50 years ago

and now they stand tall and bountiful,

treating the bears who find them in September,

I work at meditation every day,

and one of the first effects on me of smelling its roses,

was I was less reactive, less quick in response 

to the mosquito-like aggravation of the moment,

less obvious is a deep rewiring of me

within grand traditions of others 

also within the great journey of spirit to be true to itself,

modernity’s tools can seduce us away 

from the very understanding

they seem to make so much easier to find,

Google gives us answers 

almost before we even ask the question,

and, yet, Grasshopper, 

what we need to know at our deepest self

is beyond any iMoment.

by Henry H. Walker

October 28, ’14

computer images courtesy of Google Images
sunrise pictures from Mt. LeConte, 8/14