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Meditation or Visualization

Lying among wild flowers in a high country meadow, my nose is enjoying their fragrant smells mixed with that of spruce and pine trees.

I inhale and exhale deeply for several breaths and then my breathing settles down to normal as I lay quietly, enjoying the smells, warm sun on my face, and bird sounds.

My consciousness is aware of the quiet calmness, absent any noise of everyday commerce such as traffic, horns, sirens, trucks, etc.

My head is turned sideways, and a slight but tiny movement catches the corner of my eye. My eyes focus and closer examination reveals a beautiful red-and-black dotted small rounded body moving along a narrow leaf towards the stem of a large wildflower. It is a little ladybug moving along with determination. As I focus closer, I see little white specks on the flower stem, and some of them are moving slowly. Now I could see and understand the destination of this little bug. She is going to dine on her favorite prey. I turned my head back and looked at the robin’s egg-blue sky for a few minutes. Then I closed my eyes.

All was well and in harmony. Everything in my world that should be balanced was indeed balanced. All the equal and opposites were equally blended. At this point in time, all was beautiful and perfect in my world: No fuss, no hurry, no cares, and of course, no worry.

Since everything is perfect and good in my world, there is nothing left to do except take a nice nap.

Happy and safe travels on your journey!

High Country Meadow

High Country Meadow

 

What Now?

When a man has traveled far places,

Leaving footsteps on foreign land and distant shores.

 

When he has walked over lofty rugged mountains,

Wandered his valleys and fished his many streams.

 

When he has sown his seed, nurtured his offspring,

Spoken his thoughts and satisfied his thirst for knowledge.

 

When he has fought his battles, ran his life’s long races,

Feels his flame grow dimmer and the horizons of his vision weaken.

 

When dreams fade and hopes are but a study in futility,

And he no longer does for himself, but must rely upon others.

 

Growing older, feeling weaker,

Lapsing into periods away from reality — —

 

Feeling less and less like a man.

What Now?

Colorado

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

Beautiful Colorado,

I offer you this salutation:

Your lofty grandeur and cold, clear streams

Have captured my admiration.

I’ve watches you each year, changing apparel

Through different seasons,

Each more beautiful than a melody,

And I’m enraptured for these reasons.

Your flowered aspen meadows turn green,

Then to red and gold;

In summer, your lofty mountains are bareheaded,

Yet white-capped in winter’s cold.

Quiet beauty of your secret places

Are in the eyes of the beholder,

Changes with the seasons,

Like colored pictures in a folder.

When first my eyes beheld you,

I knew from the start,

I was chained by your beauty

Like a horse harnessed to a cart.

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I’ll Be There

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Where wild winds rush,

Causing sea waves through tall grass.

 

Where crystal clear water

Crashes and dances in rocky stream beds.

 

Where tall stately evergreens

Climb up mountain ladders.

 

Where eyes narrow and strain

To absorb distant, hazy vistas.

 

Where wild animals still find refuge

In nature’s embrace.

 

Where eagles still glide free

Through space and time.

 

Where colorful cutthroat trout

Lurk in clear, cold, rocky domains.

 

Where golden aspen leaves shake,

Then fall in cold, clean air.

 

Find this special place and look for me —

Cause I’ll be there.

Wapiti

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

I’ve climbed snow-capped mountains,

Searched lush valleys below.

I’ve trekked through high aspen meadows,

Drinking where hidden streams flow.

 

I’ve climbed over lofty crags

And walked through wildflower meadows where you roam.

I’ve smelled spruce-laden air

In the untamed beauty you trod and know as home.

 

I’ve searched when hot and thirsty,

Muscles crying out in pain.

I’ve hunted while wet and hungry

Against your allies, snow and rain.

 

When matching wits, my hunter’s tricks

Have all seemed to fail,

Yet your courage and strength never falter

As nature helps you prevail.

 

Each year, aspen trees

Begin wearing coats of red and gold,

When campfires flicker in the mountains

Against night air, crispy cold.

 

My ears strain to catch a bugle call,

Which splits the clean, clear air.

The mighty stag, Wapiti,

Is moving in his lair.

 

Yes, I’ll answer his ringing challenge,

For not to respond would cause me pain.

It’s time to once more play hide-and-seek

On his terms, in his terrain.

All Is Well

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

I hear You calling

From high mountains.

Among stately spruce trees,

I hear You whisper:

 

“Peace be still…always.

I walk before you.

Straight is the pathway.

All is well.”

 

In quiet places, I seek You

And carefully listen,

For in my mind I hear

Your voice softly speaking.

 

My refreshed spirit soars

Upward in exultation,

Unfolding in reverence,

Know and accepting.

 

Yes, Peace is Mine…

Your gift to all who

Seek to know You.

All is well. All is well.

My Dream

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

I dreamt of hunting buffalo

And long grass shimmering in the sun.

I saw cold, crystal clear mountain streams,

With its banks bordered by wild flowers.

Away up high, almost a speck against the light blue sky,

A bald eagle surveys his realm.

Although it’s spring time in my dream,

The distant, hazy, purple mountains

Still wear their caps of white.

The air is clean and fresh

And filled with the smell of growing things.

The white-trunked aspens

Keep sentinel in their quiet beauty.

Life is simple but hard.

Man fulfilled his dreams by the strength of his hand,

Sweat from his brow, and cunning of his mind.

He became one with his surroundings.

The world was sustained by natural order,

And it was good.

When I awoke,

I realized that I’m but a dinosaur

Transplanted into a modern time and world.

 

Prime Time

This poem is from Autumn Leaves:

Does watching a clear, fast mountain stream

While inhaling sweet, spruce-laden air

Or enjoying quiet serenity of beautiful aspens,

Gazing up at rough-cut grandeur of towering mountains

Cast a therapeutic spell?

The answer is freely available to anyone

Willing to venture out and sample

This boundless treasure.

Worries flow away merrily with the water’s rush.

Troubles vanish like smoke

In the crisp, cool air

Which teases the mountaintops.

Thoughts are free to wander aimlessly

While consuming enormous quantities

Of rich subject matter.

An all-elusive peace enters the dark,

Twisted inner recesses of the subconscious,

Bringing with it freshness and light.

Wild creatures scurry and flit about unconcerned,

As nature spins and weaves,

Displaying her enchanted magic.

An unspeakable sense of joy and well-being prevails,

Engulfing mere mortals,

Sealing the lips to silence,

For to speak might shatter the beautiful, fragile spell.

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