Heading to Manzanares on a bright day, after a week of non-stop rain, just kept adding to my sunny spirit. I was feeling excited to visit my friend, and knowing that I would not perhaps visit him next week, made this meeting quite special. A short goodbye. I brought a special rock from Magdalena River with me and some more of the roses I had been taking along these weeks. When I arrived, the colors were as bright as I've seen. I began to understand where the painter David Hockney takes his colors from, I understood purple and yellow. I thought of sharing this painting with the group. I smiled and felt gratefulness for this group.
Rain brings colors to life. Water brings life into its fullest colors.
As I greeted river, I closed my eyes, and listened. Different voices speaking all around. Some were birds, others were water and her ripples, then the wind, and another bird.
I open my eyes and see dozens of birds flying close. Will they just fly away like last time? I thought. No, they all started to sit on the naked silver branches. I stayed there. Looking at how the pigeons landed on each branch, one after another. Perhaps they are also happy to see me.
I began to walk, and joy continued to invade my body. The colors were brighter than ever, I understood the need for painters. It makes all the sense, why humans have always drawn or painted nature, it is the way to give back, to belong to such beauty. “The joy of spring is not happiness derived from something that we have received or that we will get. Spring´s joy emanates from our powers to participate in aliveness. We experience this joy in the presence of other beings, in encounters with the more-than-human world. This joy inspires the desire to care for life. Such joy sustains itself through acts of caring and gifts of delight” writes Andreas Weber in Being Nature. Although it is now autumn and not Spring, I felt that joy.
And then I greet this beautiful magnetic yellow tree. Oh, ki´s branches spread out, and the contrast of the dark trunk with the golden coins spreading across to the sky and then on the floor. I decided to come closer, enter and be under ki for a while. I look up to the sky, across the yellow coins, and I feel ki´s presence. Voices, I thought. River is composed of so many voices.
Then I walked some more, until a spot called my attention. The sun was shining across the leafless branches, and the bright spots on river pulled me in. Leaves were floating down, one after another. The poetics of this morning's meeting with river was stunning. I saw how the leaves danced their way down. Drawing helices as they found their way to the floor. By the water, I placed rock on the floor (and saw the beauty on both rocks and floors delicate white lines), and then the roses. I prayed to the seven directions, but I believe the ceremony had started a long time ago. After some breaths, I look into river, and feel this desire to touch him (or her). The soil was moist, it was not very stable. I tried to find another spot, or a branch that I could hold myself to, and as I reached a branch, I saw a family of fungus. Oh how they just anchored themselves with such fullness. They seemed full inside, as if they had absorbed the water drops coming down the tree. Another voice. A small and almost invisible one. They did not shine like the golden tree, nor spoke as the pigeons did, in silence they stand, and breathe.
They made me think of how many beings there are and we miss seeing them. The enormous amount of life that emanates around river. All of those rhythms that are happening simultaneously. I felt as if I was part of that breathing terrain. I again smiled, and felt thankful for having such a friend.
I started to head back. And as I was leaving, pigeons came to say goodbye. Another flock of them flew and sat on the empty branches. Goodbye love ones.