Daybreak.
I awoke refreshed in the hour before dawn and did not bother to change out of pajamas before investigating what the morning had to offer. The not-quite full Moon was sinking into the still Gulf Waters, Scruffy the dove was cooing at me from my neighbor’s roof; avian eyes fixed on the front door as he waited for his breakfast morsels. Another visitor sat browsing in old pine nuts scattered under the sabal palm. “Bunny” as he/she is known, lives under one of the cottages, but is rather elusive. I was surprised that Bunny continued browsing after I passed three times in my morning explorations. A choice presented itself. Two cameras: one with a 400mm telephoto, the other with a more modest 200mm lens were sitting within reach. Did I go for the long shot of the setting moon, or capture the images of Bunny and Scruffy? Since the moon is eternal and would be in the same place tomorrow and forever, the choice became easy.
Scruffy posed by fluffing his feathers and Bunny began to walk away. The camera was something unfamiliar and somewhat threatening. Understandably so.
I tried to grab the 400mm and catch the Moon, but she was gone, so I changed into shorts and running shoes for the daily jog.
It was then that unbidden thoughts crowded the mind and reflections about life’s chance encounters presented a new meditation. What lenses have I chosen on my life’s journey? What encounters have I deemed worthy and unique, what opportunities have I missed, and what wrong choices have I made?
In my time on the planet, there have been thousands of encounters. I have spent time with psychopaths, narcissists, warlords, freedom fighters, rebel leaders, mercenaries, jailers, genocidairres, victims, survivors, warriors, healers, mystics, spiritualists, saints, sinners, liars, truth-seekers, artists, singers, songwriters, and sad poets.
Grifters and drifters have been the most interesting and I have been a drifter myself.
I have chosen the opportunity to interact with all, except in the case of the jailer.
The most dangerous of all of these encounters had been the Liar. For the liar offers an easy and straightaway path to hell.
The most rewarding has been the Mystic. The Mystic offered the challenge to search for God. It is the more difficult journey.
Still, the Liar is always more appealing.
When meditation opens the mind to reflection combined with compassion, the choices parade through conscious thought unhinged from emotion.
My eyes are the camera my soul uses to seek the encounter. My ears transform the images into a story, but the ears also open the door to deception.
The sounds of Scruffy cooing are always to be trusted. He is offering a mutual relationship. He knows the morsels will appear and he is simply telling me he is nearby. He will not swoop down and peck out my eyes, even though could.
Bunny gives no thought to me whatsoever. I am a familiar object in his habitat, until the big black object in my hands alters his perception of me. Bunny does not panic; he simply chooses a safer distance.
The Moon is incapable of thought, but is held captive in an eternal dance that began at the instant of creation. Moon cannot sing or move from its gravitational path. It is constant. What Scruffy, Bunny and the Moon share is the fact that they cannot lie.
They have no place on the human bell curve that differentiates aberration from sainthood.
This path to God is difficult and full of encounters with tricksters. Nature is my only constant guide, and the Mystic reminds me that safety is found in these chance encounters.
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