It is a cold, rainy morning in New York City. I have been drinking my café from Tarrazú and reading quietly. Gratitude and a tranquil joy have pervaded my days, recently, and today I am in that vibe.
At dawn, I decided to return to a short, poetic reflection from Richard Wagamese’s Embers that has remained central to my own musings over the last two weeks.
I know mountains because I have stood in precipices and breathed. I know prairie because I have lain on my back and been absorbed by the sky. I know the ocean because I have immersed myself in it and felt the pull of its current. If I want to know life, I need to experience its wonder and breathe it in with every breath. If I want to know possibility, I need to see its immensity and allow it to absorb me. If I want to know faith, I need to surrender to it and feel it pulling me in its unseen direction.
Life as breathing mountain air. Possibility as a vast prairie under a sprawling sky. Faith as the formidable pull of the ocean. Three crisp, enlightening metaphors to ponder on a cold, rainy day, as I sip from a steaming cup of coffee.
[Photos: Volcán Irazú with a view of Volcán Turrialba, Cartago; Brooklyn Botanic Garden; Pacific Ocean near Montezuma, Puntarenas.]
Daniel G. Campos 