Keep Dancing Like the Leaf

We are being watched in a never-ending story.

This story began with a lone leaf, a magical Messenger, dancing at the end of a spider's thread at the Parthenon recently. (This 1 min. video is of the leaf. I didn't do anything to enhance the dance digitally though it has certainly enhanced my dance these days.)

 
The dance between the leaf and me continued as I prepared to release it and lay to rest the female cardinal that hit my window just as I pressed 'post' on the initial story. (The prelude to this story is linked HERE and at the conclusion.)

The cardinal died cupped to my chest in a cloth.  In releasing her, I suddenly sensed I was to let the maple leaf go as well.  I stood in the backyard and told this dear bird to look for the light of her soul's kin and thanked her for coming to Earth.

After placing her among the ferns, I knew it was time to part with the leaf. 

To my surprise, tears came to the edge of my eyes.  Over the recent years, I've become accustomed to saying good-bye to animals.  Honoring them in their passing feels like a mutual gifting between them and me.  I was taken by surprise to feel attached to a leaf yet this magical messenger had been with me for five days.

I did what felt right.  We walked about the yard as I made introductions between the leaf and the trees.  I introduced it to tulip poplar, elm, oak, Grandfather Maple (as we call him), sycamore, sassafras, dogwood and red bud. I introduced it to the many evergreens, flowering bushes and shrubs and last but not least the lavender and rosemary.

My tears became joy as we walked. I thought of the phrase, "Let go and let God."  I doubt those five words have ever been used in this way, but in that moment the leaf was Divine for me as our ongoing interaction of the week was part of my life's mystery.

The me of the past might have tossed the leaf into the winds to avoid further feelings.  I had plans for which I was already running late.  Instead we sat on one particular rock surrounded by golden trees.

I knew exactly where to release the leaf but first I needed to listen, listen for when to let it go.

Previously my mind would have swirled like the winds trying to figure out the right time.  Instead I became very still inside and listened for what felt like the time. At that moment, I stepped into the area where the winds are strongest coming up from the valley below.  With arms and heart open wide, I raised the leaf. 

"Come, Wind, come, " I heard myself speak.  "I release....."

"What?!!" I exclaimed and began laughing.

As sure as I'm sitting here I knew the leaf didn't want to leave me.  It only wanted me to be willing to let it go.  I don't mean this sacrilegiously but I felt like Abraham offering up his son Isaac. Nor do I intend to diminish parenthood by comparing a child to a leaf.  You would have to know me.  My children are in Nature.  My children are the trees, animals, bees, bugs and birds. My children are the plants that come and go seasonally. My child was this leaf.  This child wanted to stay with me but first I had to pass a test.  Was I willing to release what felt dear to me?  Was I willing to listen to my intuitive self, open my heart and and let go?

Parents place their children in daycare, put them down for a nap or send them to grandparents for the day.  I placed the leaf in the leaves of my journal.  I considered quickly posting what had transpired but instead showered and drove into the neighboring town to see the art I missed the prior night.  The unexpected events of the morning took time I had not planned.

I promised the leaf I would return.

A day passed.

Finally a full twenty-four hours later, I opened my journal.

'Where had I been?  Did I consciously avoid my journal and the leaf for a day?'

As soon as I saw the leaf, I felt the answer.

The leaf wanted to stay with me, to see how I live this Earth life, to see how I dance.  Just as children reveal truths to adults around them, they in turn watch to see if the adults 'get it.'  

The leaf wanted to watch.  Being watched created pressure unknowingly.

Do I really live the way it showed me that day at the Parthenon?
Do I really believe Love's thread holds me?  Do my actions reflect that knowing?
Do I trust Spirit to carry me?
Do I dance freely or allow fear even subtly to control me?

The truthful answer to these questions is in some moments yes and other in moments no.  I can be crystal clear, as the leaf witnessed, then in the very next moment lapse into ignoring. As soon as this happens, I start sleepwalking through my day.

As soon as I realize I'm on Auto-Dawn, I return to presence and the present.  I return to Me.

The dance between the leaf and me continues.  At present it lies on burlap alongside bugs, feathers, rocks and bark, sacred objects to me and representatives of my children.  These objects as well as my cats, angels, guides, the Divine, my partner and possibly those I don't even realize are watching to see if I my walk mirrors my words.  Do I live with integrity?

 Someone is always watching. 

I wrote this last sentence as time for a meeting neared.  How does one conclude a never-ending story?  Was "someone is always watching" contrived and forced? 

I set the story aside, pulled out of my driveway for the meeting and turned on the radio. Thanks to NPR, I heard:  "Did you know you're always being watched?" 

I smiled. This is how I know I am dancing like the leaf.  When I'm paying attention and present, what's considered mundane by many magically engages with me.  NPR was airing a story about bosses watching their employees while on the job. I turned on the radio just as the story was introduced. 

We are being watched.

Like the fallen leaves beneath the maple, the ancestors watch. Will we dance through our days with greater awareness than many of them did?  And like the leaves yet to fall from the tree, those to come, star souls anticipating their earthly arrival, watch witnessing our actions wondering what kind of Earth we will leave them.

We are being watched in this never-ending story. 

How we participate is our choice. 

The Leaf's orange arms remind me to stay open, open and fully me for that's the only way I'm truly free.

* Here's the link to the prior story. "The Secret to Dancing Through Life" 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse, 18 November 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com