One of the more underrated paths to serenity, enlightenment, spirituality -- whatever you care to call it -- is simple physical labour, performed outdoors in a natural setting. After two weeks of daily two or three-hour sessions, the brushing out of the "Northeast Bush Trail" has become a work meditation. On my knees with lopping shears, cutting out clumps of willow and taking out aspen and alder saplings, my mind goes quiet and my spirit tranquil. Tonya and Magick come along, tied out on six-foot leashes to nearby trees. Tonya sniffs around awhile, then lies down quietly, disappearing into the background with her black and tan Seppala camouflage. Magick frets, titters and tangles her leash, her white coat standing out sharply against the autumn bush colours.
The hard part of the job is finished -- the overgrown stretch that runs parallel to Horse Creek. Now I'm headed uphill, going westward towards the Miners' Range. Reaching a corner where the trail plunges into an area thick with willows, I recall that this turn has always had poor visibility due to the clumps of underbrush surrounding the poplar tree that marks the turn. After a lot of lopping, all that brush is cleared away and only the stump of one big willow clump remains, which the swede saw takes care of, cutting it off flush with the ground. Wow -- you can actually see the turn now. How satisfying. The sweat is pouring off me, but I'm content and happy with the fruits of my effort.
All around me the slopes of the foothills are golden. Here and there in cleared areas, tall stands of fireweed shed their cottony seed with abandon. I feel at one, in harmony with the trail on which I'm working and the world of nature and -- dare I say it? -- nature's God all around me. After 58 years on this earth I still cannot really decide whether or not I'm a theist, but I'm never any closer to being one than when I'm on my knees with a tool in my hands. These trails on which I have knelt to do my penance or my wordless prayer of work, a little later on will become winter paths to Glory as my sleddogs swiftly carry me along in a world of diamondlike clarity and snow-white purity of essence. Can a Trappist monk do any better than this? I hardly think so…
Posted by jjeffrey at September 6, 2003 08:26 PMWhen we perform work, our thoughts are detached from the small 'I' concept. Our focus shifts from the whirlpool of thoughts and concepts that we are carrying with us. This is the first step towards surrender to the Divine. The inner transformation happens, joy swells up, when two things happen. One, when our surrender becomes complete, and two, when the Divine showers its grace on us.
Posted by: Sridhar at October 2, 2004 07:52 PM