Newsletter Articles written by Tera Thomas
Issue 13
A River Runs Through Us
by Tera Thomas
Several months ago I wrote an email to a friend and told her that I was feeling elated. “My life is about to change,” I said. “Hummingbird Farm is going to move to some beautiful land and everything I have been dreaming about will become a reality.” I had no idea when it would happen or how it would happen, but I felt it manifesting inside of me. (Connection.)
A couple of months later when I found I had to leave the land I had been living on I was afraid. “Oh, no!” I thought. “I’m not ready.” Why had I spoken what I had been feeling? If only I had kept silent. (Disconnection.)
Then my knowing came back and I surrendered to whatever Spirit had in store for me. (Connection.) I found some beautiful land and, almost before I knew it, I was living on it. I felt the power of the land, the deep purpose and knowledge lying dormant here and waiting to open; I felt my connection with everything. I was sitting at the corner of the property one day where the river rushes by over great boulders and a stream tumbles down a steep hill to join it. The noise of the rapids was deafening. The feel and touch of the water surrounding me was rich and alive. “Sit right here,” the river said, “and I will bring you everything.” In that moment of connection I totally understood what the river was saying to me. There was nothing else I would ever need.
But later I was feeling overwhelmed by the needs of the animals and the land. The river was not going to mow all this grass, scoop the poop, clean the barn, mend the fences and outbuildings, plant gardens, bush hog the pastures, or pay the bills. I started thinking about the thousands of dollars needed to make Hummingbird Farm all that I knew it could be and the thousands of dollars needed to pay off the mortgage. My body ached from head to toe from all the physical labor and my head ached from all the trying to figure out how to get everything accomplished. I felt small, insignificant, terrified, and, worse, I felt absolutely alone. How could this happen? Especially here! Especially now! (Disconnection.)
I am in the barn, scooping poop and I’m annoyed. The barn floor is wet again from all the rain and I need to put more grit down to keep it dry. Most days I love to be in the barn, scooping poop. It’s peaceful, like a meditation to me. Today I am not enjoying myself.
Shanti has felt my grumbling and nuzzles my face. She is nearly a year old now, small, cute, yet, so wise. As Shanti has told me many times, she has never really been a baby. She invites me to put down the rake, to come out into the sunshine.
“I have too much work to do,” I protest.
“You are missing the point,” Shanti says, and trots off to join the other llamas in the pasture. I go out to watch them for a while, so peaceful and graceful in their interactions with each other, and with the land. They roll in the grass then lay prone soaking up the sun, then turn over and without standing up, eat some of the grass. They stand and stretch and look to the sky in reverence, then leap in celebration. They sip their water slowly, savoring each cool drop, and dance when I spray them with the hose. They are so present in each of these moments. I compare myself and come up lacking.
I stare across the llamas and into the next pasture. The grass is waist high and the wind is rippling through it. It smells so fresh and clean. The sky is so blue and the sun showers everything with golden light. I hear the river and turn to see it, swollen from all the rain we have had, rushing past me. I feel how every molecule of the water is on the journey—not just along for the ride. Does the water know where it’s going? Does it care? The river is so mysterious—some-times still and quiet, sometimes swollen and giddy, rushing over the boulders, sometimes brooding, sometimes laughing, but always, always it flows.
And suddenly—connection! There is a river running through me and it contains everything. The river has weather, it changes moods, there is life in the river and there is death in it. The river runs through all of us and infuses our every thought, our every action. Always, no matter how alone or insignificant we feel, we are connected to this river of life. How is it we forget and get ourselves bogged down again and again in the petty details of life? It is a challenge to find the balance between our human need to “do” and our spiritual need to “be” and yet, that is what we are being asked to do.
Connection. Disconnection. Connection. It is the ebb and flow of the river. I am so fortunate to have an opportunity to even ponder this dilemma. What a precious gift this human existence. It is a river, flowing, moving, full of life, of death, of joy, of sorrow, of every single imaginable thing. It eternally flows through all of us, and so, in fact, we are always connected whether we feel it or not.
It seems so much easier to feel connected when all is smooth in my physical world. Yet, in embracing the connection when the path is difficult I lose my limitations and open myself to the support of the universe. Possibilities flow through us when we are open to them and suddenly we know we are not alone or insignificant. In each moment there is a choice. Am I flowing with the river of consciousness or am I damming it up with my desire to control, or my fears? I want to flow with the river and be present in every moment of my life. I want to welcome the currents, the weather, the seasons, and trust that it is all Spirit, that it is all my path. I am so grateful for this land, for my animal friends, for the physical river that greets me each day. There is a river running through us, how blessed we are!
