Azure World
THE EAGLE
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
- fragment, Alfred, Lord Tennyson
I'm about to embark on a holiday to my favorite place in the world, the Island of Maui, Hawaii. This island is both beautiful and sacred to me, a temple of nature rising green and blue from the sheen of the Pacific. Ringed by white beaches, steep volcanic mountains and emerald valleys, Maui is a place unlike any other. On Maui I find myself thinking more spaciously, abundantly, leaning into to a farther horizon. I usually find both restoration, peace and vision on the island. I have actually made most of my life's major goals standing on Maui's western shore by this one gray wind-twisted tree, a survivor bent and smoothed by the trade winds, an ancient of nature rooted into the cool surf that invites me to lean on its sturdy trunk as I sort out my life and reset my inner compass. O, I am looking forward to touching its smooth branches! To my toes talking with the sand and the sea life. To see if I can't become bigger than what life usually makes of me, or I of life. Bigger dreams, more courage, the thunderbolt that falls.
It is important we have our own sacred place in life; an earthly cathedral, a physical touchstone of the deeper self we can carry in our hearts as we go about our daily compressed lives. A personal square of this wondrous planet that speaks to the hugeness of what life is and who we are in our own much more humble existence. A place of wonder. Of memory. A sounding board that helps us navigate forward into the next journey. Return, regroup, refresh, renew.
I promise to drop in with a note this week in the Pacific. In the meantime, Aloha from Maui.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
- fragment, Alfred, Lord Tennyson
I'm about to embark on a holiday to my favorite place in the world, the Island of Maui, Hawaii. This island is both beautiful and sacred to me, a temple of nature rising green and blue from the sheen of the Pacific. Ringed by white beaches, steep volcanic mountains and emerald valleys, Maui is a place unlike any other. On Maui I find myself thinking more spaciously, abundantly, leaning into to a farther horizon. I usually find both restoration, peace and vision on the island. I have actually made most of my life's major goals standing on Maui's western shore by this one gray wind-twisted tree, a survivor bent and smoothed by the trade winds, an ancient of nature rooted into the cool surf that invites me to lean on its sturdy trunk as I sort out my life and reset my inner compass. O, I am looking forward to touching its smooth branches! To my toes talking with the sand and the sea life. To see if I can't become bigger than what life usually makes of me, or I of life. Bigger dreams, more courage, the thunderbolt that falls.
It is important we have our own sacred place in life; an earthly cathedral, a physical touchstone of the deeper self we can carry in our hearts as we go about our daily compressed lives. A personal square of this wondrous planet that speaks to the hugeness of what life is and who we are in our own much more humble existence. A place of wonder. Of memory. A sounding board that helps us navigate forward into the next journey. Return, regroup, refresh, renew.
I promise to drop in with a note this week in the Pacific. In the meantime, Aloha from Maui.
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