|Sunset Reflections, Tuscawilla Lake ©Lynne Buchanan|
On the eve of the eclipse at the edge of Tuscawilla Lake as I stood watching the sun set and the moon rise, a bittersweet feeling came over me. The reds, pinks, and mauves in the water, from the sunset’s reflections, and the purple spiderwort at the water’s edge were lovely. The lake and air were so still there wasn’t a ripple to be seen. It made me want to hold my breath. Yet, all around the bullfrogs and alligators were calling loudly, bespeaking a nervous energy that was no doubt amplified by the phase of the moon.
As I allowed myself to be fully in the moment, listening to the croaking calls and raucous echoes, feeling wisps of cool damp air touch my skin, allowing my gaze to be drawn to the sumptuous visual display around me, I felt the beauty of the promised land, which can be here now when we let go of all the chatter in our brains–the stories we tell ourselves of lost loves and disappointments, the logistical nightmares we sometimes face, the shoulds and have tos we feel compelled to undertake to keep the infrastructures of our lives functioning smoothly. I promised myself as long as I am still breathing and there is beauty in this world, I will keep showing up to witness and celebrate it. Then, as the sky began to darken and the moon began to rise, the mosquitoes also began to land. The creatures around me announced the encroaching darkness with more urgency and their calls crept into my own soul and forced me to look within at what is hiding in the shadows. The specter of loneliness that is always there hovering outside the frame of the perfect photo of my life.
|Moonrise on the Eve of the Eclipse ©Lynne Buchanan|
Boundless love without attachment is the goal and the challenge. Loving more as we let go. As hard as it sounds to do this, I know it is the only way. Holding on is like trying to capture a shooting star and trap it in a jar–it's essence would be extinguished the moment it is caught. Harboring resentment and letting disappointment harden inside, whether from a failed dream or lost love, will rob me of my own agency. I would rather open to the joy that comes from watching light work its magic on the waves and rocks of the shore I call home, whether it is in my physical home in Micanopy or my spiritual home on Molokai.
As I walk through the dark night and back into the light, all I can do is love more, especially in the face of broken promises. There is no truth except love, and my words will be false unless I can love myself first. When I accept this, the universe seems to magically pour in just what I need and her waters sustain me...
|Self-Portrait at the Hui Ho'Olana ©Lynne Buchanan|