Fern Spring
by Josephine Laing
At the western most end of Yosemite Valley, directly below the Tunnel View lies a true marvel of the Divine Feminine at her finest. Tucked discretely amidst stupendous features is this quiet and unassuming little pool. The spring box which has been carefully laid out in granite rock is probably only ten feet in diameter and is maybe only two or three feet deep. It spills over one of the valleys smallest waterfalls to continue down a short gurgling run of mossy stones before descending into a culvert which allows it to cross beneath the road. The little stream then reemerges on the other side. It continues on by tumbling down another thirty feet or so whereupon it is united with the mighty Merced River.
There is a turnout for parking and a placard at the spring with a photo of an older Indian woman drinking water from a small basket cup. It tells how local current day first nation peoples whose ancestors have had a history in the valley have recently rebuilt and arranged the rocks for the spring pool and have replanted the ferns around it which used to grow there. Thus the name, "Fern Spring." It also tells how the water bubbling up from the depth of this spring has just completed a deep process of filtration through many hundred feet of granite rock and sand, leaving it to be exceedingly pure high mountain water.
My guess is that most folks visiting the valley probably don't understand why anyone would want to stop and visit such a seemingly uneventful spot. In fact the placard even mentions, not too discreetly, the presence of restrooms being located just one hundred feet up the road at Bridalveil fall, presumably to prevent passers by from finding it's quiet pool a tempting spot to relieve themselves.
Amidst all of the dramatic sheer rock walls and several of the world's highest waterfalls which are visible from the valley floor, it takes a different kind of mind to be capable of settling into appreciation of a mossy little spring. But there are many who visit or live in Yosemite who have grown to love this place.
For me, I find myself sinking down into the deep lap of the mother. Cradled in her soft arms of fallen leaves and mossy rock. The gentle tinkle of her tiny waterfall is her lullaby inviting me to settle into another plane of my awareness. My mind quiets itself and my body lets go as I pause at her reflecting pool and gaze into her dark shallow depths.
This practice of gazing into a dark pool was known to my European ancestors as "scrying." When we do so, we can let ourselves enter into a different type of consciousness in order to receive information. This practice is as old as womankind.
While in this state of mind, I asked the spring if she had a message for me. Tiny drops of misty rain gathered on overhead branches and plinked and plunked gently and periodically onto her surface.
The first thing the spring said was, "Drink me." I obediently knelt down and cupped my hands and drank deeply. The water surprised me with it's flavor of rocks and ice. I wanted to gulp it down and realized how thirsty I had become.
The spring then placed an image in my head, one I had mused on before. The thin crust of our earth is covered with soil and compost. Out of the materials of this compost rises all of life. We humans rise up and dance around as animated moving compost for a brief time and then we melt back into the earth's surface again, returning to the compost from whence we came. Only this time as I visited this thought, the spring reminded me that our bodies are something like 98% water. So here we are, on the face of the earth as dancing! water.
The ripples spreading out in ever enlarging circles from the infrequent droplets of rain were reminders of how we each affect everything with our lives and with our every action, both positively and negatively. The spring said, "Be aware that you have an effect in the world and in your immediate area. Pay attention to the quality of the effect you make."
The small streams of air bubbles arising every so often from the deeper recesses of the pond spoke to the idea that we all have access to the ground level of our shared consciousness. The awareness of our deep source is always bubbling up in some of us and is accessible by all of us. The Vedic tradition of India considers this ground level of consciousness to be the source of all information, wisdom and understanding. It is through time spent quietly listening as in meditation or scrying that we can access this plane of our awareness.
Standing there I felt an overwhelming sense of peace, deep peace, throughout the entire sphere of my being. And the little waterfall gently lapped it's words of "Love, Love, Love," in my ear as the only reason why we are here.
The spring gave me one last message. It was this. Water holds within it the perfect balance of energies. Still water like this spring and like the pools and ponds and small lakes of my youth are very feminine in their nature. Yin. While rapids and moving water and waterfalls are more masculine. Yang. This little spring with it's tiny waterfall and it's quietly moving still water, like all water everywhere, holds the balance of the masculine and feminine.
So here, at the time of the Spring Equinox, as the length of the daytime equals the length of the night time, I bring you fern spring and her promise of peace with her loving balance of yin and yang energy.
© 2012 Josephine Laing
At the western most end of Yosemite Valley, directly below the Tunnel View lies a true marvel of the Divine Feminine at her finest. Tucked discretely amidst stupendous features is this quiet and unassuming little pool. The spring box which has been carefully laid out in granite rock is probably only ten feet in diameter and is maybe only two or three feet deep. It spills over one of the valleys smallest waterfalls to continue down a short gurgling run of mossy stones before descending into a culvert which allows it to cross beneath the road. The little stream then reemerges on the other side. It continues on by tumbling down another thirty feet or so whereupon it is united with the mighty Merced River.
There is a turnout for parking and a placard at the spring with a photo of an older Indian woman drinking water from a small basket cup. It tells how local current day first nation peoples whose ancestors have had a history in the valley have recently rebuilt and arranged the rocks for the spring pool and have replanted the ferns around it which used to grow there. Thus the name, "Fern Spring." It also tells how the water bubbling up from the depth of this spring has just completed a deep process of filtration through many hundred feet of granite rock and sand, leaving it to be exceedingly pure high mountain water.
My guess is that most folks visiting the valley probably don't understand why anyone would want to stop and visit such a seemingly uneventful spot. In fact the placard even mentions, not too discreetly, the presence of restrooms being located just one hundred feet up the road at Bridalveil fall, presumably to prevent passers by from finding it's quiet pool a tempting spot to relieve themselves.
Amidst all of the dramatic sheer rock walls and several of the world's highest waterfalls which are visible from the valley floor, it takes a different kind of mind to be capable of settling into appreciation of a mossy little spring. But there are many who visit or live in Yosemite who have grown to love this place.
For me, I find myself sinking down into the deep lap of the mother. Cradled in her soft arms of fallen leaves and mossy rock. The gentle tinkle of her tiny waterfall is her lullaby inviting me to settle into another plane of my awareness. My mind quiets itself and my body lets go as I pause at her reflecting pool and gaze into her dark shallow depths.
This practice of gazing into a dark pool was known to my European ancestors as "scrying." When we do so, we can let ourselves enter into a different type of consciousness in order to receive information. This practice is as old as womankind.
While in this state of mind, I asked the spring if she had a message for me. Tiny drops of misty rain gathered on overhead branches and plinked and plunked gently and periodically onto her surface.
The first thing the spring said was, "Drink me." I obediently knelt down and cupped my hands and drank deeply. The water surprised me with it's flavor of rocks and ice. I wanted to gulp it down and realized how thirsty I had become.
The spring then placed an image in my head, one I had mused on before. The thin crust of our earth is covered with soil and compost. Out of the materials of this compost rises all of life. We humans rise up and dance around as animated moving compost for a brief time and then we melt back into the earth's surface again, returning to the compost from whence we came. Only this time as I visited this thought, the spring reminded me that our bodies are something like 98% water. So here we are, on the face of the earth as dancing! water.
The ripples spreading out in ever enlarging circles from the infrequent droplets of rain were reminders of how we each affect everything with our lives and with our every action, both positively and negatively. The spring said, "Be aware that you have an effect in the world and in your immediate area. Pay attention to the quality of the effect you make."
The small streams of air bubbles arising every so often from the deeper recesses of the pond spoke to the idea that we all have access to the ground level of our shared consciousness. The awareness of our deep source is always bubbling up in some of us and is accessible by all of us. The Vedic tradition of India considers this ground level of consciousness to be the source of all information, wisdom and understanding. It is through time spent quietly listening as in meditation or scrying that we can access this plane of our awareness.
Standing there I felt an overwhelming sense of peace, deep peace, throughout the entire sphere of my being. And the little waterfall gently lapped it's words of "Love, Love, Love," in my ear as the only reason why we are here.
The spring gave me one last message. It was this. Water holds within it the perfect balance of energies. Still water like this spring and like the pools and ponds and small lakes of my youth are very feminine in their nature. Yin. While rapids and moving water and waterfalls are more masculine. Yang. This little spring with it's tiny waterfall and it's quietly moving still water, like all water everywhere, holds the balance of the masculine and feminine.
So here, at the time of the Spring Equinox, as the length of the daytime equals the length of the night time, I bring you fern spring and her promise of peace with her loving balance of yin and yang energy.
© 2012 Josephine Laing