Mystery If You Need It

I almost missed it.

We were following a path skirting the edge of the pond, stretching stiff legs after a long drive, and taking in the autumn landscape, a wide multicolored panorama of hills and valleys. The Sun, leaving a last reminder of light and warmth as it wondered off at the far end of its savings time.

And if it hadn't been for a wobbly log crossing, I would have missed it too.

Here, the path encountered a narrow stream entering the pond, providing part of the water that feeds the pond, ensuring it remains a pond, and so it, the path, required some man-made help in continuing it's journey across to the other side.

The solution was a log -- a bridge, loosely defined -- spanning the stream and riding the low banks on each side. Someone had hewn it flat on top with an adze, making rough purchase, and left it wide enough to accommodate two or three boot soles, side-by-side, for the crossing.

Part way through my traverse the log awoke, adjusting to my weight by shifting itself on the muddy banks. As I caught my balance I looked down.

It was all there. Light and water; the green living reeds and grasses; the colorful fallen leaves; and hints of beginnings and endings just beneath the surface. Mystery, if you need it. And I needed mystery.

I suppose you are wondering why I called you all here today.

For reflection, simply.

Right now is one of those too infrequent in-between times. The ballots are all cast. The culmination of hundreds of thousands of individual acts of participation. With agreement, for the most part, to respect the collective decisions made, if allowed to stand fairly and unperturbed. So, right now, there is nothing more to do.

Now is a moment to put aside politics, the conflicts, the war. They'll intrude again soon enough. Now is a moment to savor the world close around, the light, water, life and fallen leaves.

Mystery. If you need it.