Into the woods

A few months ago I went to Muir Woods.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with Muir Woods, it is a National Monument, one of the best preserved remaining stands of virgin, old-growth redwoods.

It was a beautiful day.  The sun shone, yet it was not too hot.  Strolling slowly along the paths, you could hear people speaking all sorts of languages: English, French, Spanish, Russian, Chinese, and others that I cannot recognize other than as being none of those.  You could see young couples, retirees and families with young children.  It was heartening to see how very small children are the same across cultures.

The sun shone on the tops of the trees.  When you looked up, you could see the tops of the stands of redwood illuminated fully in the strong sunlight.  When you looked down, you saw the gloom of the forest floor.

The most beautiful to see were the areas at the margins.  The dark boughs and trunks were silhouetted starkly against the bright blue sky.  The leaves were lit up like gold from shafts of light breaking through the canopy.

I kept thinking that a lot of the world is like that.  The most interesting things happen in the change from one thing to another.  Where the shore meets the sea.  Where forests give way to meadows.

At the changing of guards, of eras.   Of states of being.

Not always, of course.  The changes in this country the past few years have been often ugly, to say the least. The leading edge is facing backwards, as we become a society in retreat in many areas.

But still… watching children become adults.  Meeting new people. Changing and growing yourself.

Finding where my margins are, where I gleam the most, where I can grow, may well be my next task in life.

I hope I like what I find when I get there.  I hope others do, too.

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