It was a few ticks past 8:00 am, on this crisp, sun washed Saturday morning, as I set foot on the dirt path which ambles down to Petticoat Creek. For three years running, I’ve made this particular spot the opening act to launch my spring bird watching odyssey.

The exuberant song of Red-winged Blackbirds greets me intermingled with the springs here! mating call of Chickadees. I hurry down the path eager to see what lies ahead. A chip note high above and behind me interrupts my progress. I retreat, scan the trees and pick out the first tail-bobbing Phoebe of the spring.

This near miss should have been enough to slow by progress. But alas, it did not.

Striding on down the path, I note the purdy purdy purdy of Cardinals and the maids maids maids, put on your tea, kettle, kettle, kettle of Song Sparrows. But I don’t stop to look. They are common species which, after all, I’ll see many of throughout the day.

Hollow knocking signals Woodpeckers. Harsh tchack notes belong to Grackles. Wolf whistles register as Starlings. I’ve learned to bird by ear so I don’t lose time chasing down the everyday species. Or so I tell myself.

I pass purposefully under the footbridge and emerge onto the beach to scan for ducks. And then, finally, Mother Nature commands my full and unbiased attention.

The lake is an unbroken pane of burnished glass. Not a ripple disturbs it anywhere. Silhouettes of drifting Red-breasted Mergansers create perspective. The barely audible whisper of water trickling onto sand is heaven sent.

And, once again, I pause to wonder: Why am I in such a hurry? What is so important that I cannot pause to appreciate the small miracles that surround me? For all I know, in this capricious life, I may not pass this way again. The only time I can be sure of is this moment.

So often I find myself waging this battle. In a confounded hurry to get somewhere although I can never quite pinpoint where “somewhere” is.

As I gaze thoughtfully across the glassy water, I realize the irony. Where I so desperately want to get to is that elusive place called “Peace”. That place where time stands still, worry melts away and the weight of expectation is forever lifted.

In that stillborn moment, I relearn the lesson I’ve learned and forgotten so many times. Peace is not a destination. It is not a place on a map. There are no GPS coordinates to get me there. The faster I walk the farther away from it I get.

I only find peace in those moments when I stop looking for it. It arrives in those moments when I pause long enough to let it catch up with me. I can’t possess it. I have to let go and let it possess me.

The quiet valley of Petticoat Creek is my metaphor for peace. A place where I rediscover that finding peace is as simple as pausing to give praise to common things of uncommon beauty.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Follow Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm regularly at this site. Categories: Shifting Winds, Sudden Light, Deep Dive, Songs of Nature, Random Acts of Metaphor. Originating at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2.

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Travelers on a plane, heading for a rendezvous with loved ones, don’t have to worry that there may be a bomb underneath their seat.

We let bygones be bygones and not waste another day nursing old wounds.

The word “soldier” is obsolete and no one need spend Christmas Day in a foreign land on guard duty.

We rejoice in all that we have in common rather than take arms to declare our differences.

Cancer wards in hospitals are closed, not because there is not enough money, but because there is a cure.

We rediscover childish wonder and learn not to take ourselves so seriously.

Christmas care packages aren’t needed because everyone has enough and no one has too much.

Poverty is just a footnote in history books.

The only metaphors we need are for peace, love and harmony and we find them in abundance.

May the holidays bring joy for all and the dawning year be filled with miracles of wonder, grace and faith. May you have a Christmas like no other.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

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The helter-skelter world, which we launch ourselves bravely into each day, exacts a hefty toll. We need a refuge we can escape to where we can rest and rejuvenate our wounded soul.

Nature is a mutable cloud which is always and never the same.  Ralph Waldo Emerson: American essayist, philosopher, and poet

In a world that charges madly on in a race that never seems to end, I need nature’s slow dance of serenity. The playful, elegant fluttering of golden wings over a meadow splashed with a palette of wildflowers.

Nature is an infinite sphere of which the center is everywhere and the circumference nowhere.  Blaise Pascal: French mathematician, physicist, and religious philosopher

In a constantly shape-shifting world where what was truth yesterday is irrelevant today, I need nature’s unassuming constancy. The teeming life of a cattail marsh where dragonflies waltz to the bullfrog’s symphony.

Trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak to the listening heaven. Rabindranath Tagore: Bengali poet, novelist, musician, and playwright

In a locked down world in which we need keys, pass cards and fobs to get in and sometimes even to get out, I need nature’s open arms. The Cool Hollow Trail that always sighs its welcome beneath a canopy of willows.

There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story. Linda Hogan: Native American poet, storyteller, academic, playwright, novelist

In a world where the din and clamour of machines, discontent and greed assaults my senses, I need nature’s noble peace and majesty. The slow grace of the seasons and the effortless exuberance of swallows in flights of fancy.

Nature is my living metaphor of serenity, constancy, open arms and the peace that surpasses all expression. Like a moth to a flame, I return to it again and again. I never tire of it nor it of me.

I long for spring and another walk through Cool Hollow.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel”. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar.

~ If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings every 5 to 7 days. Categories: Shifting Winds, Sudden Light, Deep Dive, Songs of Nature, Random Acts of Metaphor. Or subscribe to my Twitter page (mdyetmetaphor) to receive a tweet when a blog posting goes up.