Rhodos and Egos

I hiked last week on the Pump Gap Trail in Hot Springs, North Carolina, after a light snow had dusted the area and the sun had just come out to make it glisten like glaze on a cake. I had never been on the trail, so I did not know quite what to expect, but in the back of my mind, I did know that portions of the adjacent Appalachian Trail were chock full of rhododendrons, plants people usually seek out in the late spring and early summer when they bloom into glorious shades of pastel pink, purple, and vanilla cream.

After many stream crossings and about half an hour of walking, I stumbled upon a valley that seemed to be entirely made up of these large shrubs, colloquially known as “rhodos.” It was like tumbling into a page from a fairy tale or wandering through what I imagine would be Queen Frostine’s icicle forest. The rhodo leaves were frosted in snow as artistically and cleanly as if a confectioner had done it themself, and they drooped uniformly under the snow’s weight like a million floppy dog ears. The sun, already making its descent at 1:30, twinkled just above the rim of the hilltop across the way, mimicking the last glowing acknowledgement it gives coastlines before dipping below the ocean horizon each evening. In a way, I came at the valley’s sunset, and the sun, an alchemist in its own right, gave the dark green rhododendron leaves a golden hue while illuminating the strokes of white snow painted all over the valley.

The rhodos had another three or four months before they would start showing off their flowers. But I thought they were even more beautiful that day. Shamelessly dormant for the cold winter season, they didn’t have to do any work – just stay still for the flakes to cover them up. That subtle, still, unassuming beauty is the best kind because it glorifies more than just the self. That day, it made not only the rhodos beautiful, but it also drew me to meditate on the snow, the sun, and the energy created by all three in tandem.

Standing there on the trail, stunned into silence, I began to think about how this effortless beauty is available to us, too, through the path of non-action. When we still our minds, we become like the metaphorical pond of Buddhist thought, reflecting the phenomena around us with crystal clear clarity. When we can just be, when we can stop desperately trying to glorify ourselves with accolades, clothing, jewelry, the “right” body, and even the right thoughts, we allow nature and destiny to relieve us of our imagined sense of control, and these forces come to rest on us, with us, and for us. Our entire universe becomes more serene by way of our stillness.

What would happen if each day, we strived more and more to be like the rhodos and let our egos go?

Picture Sources

1) Source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/kodacrome/17356000165/in/photolist-srG3ba-wmyA98-9PYbDH-bTKnXK-cyiTJY-bXpkfE-84M34P-zyvrrS-9PGqzL-6qXSBV-ectfbC-HnPBj-84LZST-N8fTD-UW3ci9-fnEGC-6pwfgE-sZQmn2-c75avh-bDC2m9-nSF15Z-25T8GjW-xp1ktd-foqr3-8XwT3T-EXPed-e774u4-bTKo9r-VhHrde-nSAxnN-nLqLR-uR8bzv-cPWyk-nSnYhR-eMWtnC-5vr61V-27tVQ-nGthME-UcH3pj-ncnqvz-eztujm-UfGjcy-FJEdW-natu8q-v6Tso3-LiqJc-ces6eS-4Rab9T-bx3En-2j3yV

2) Sierra Winters

3) @zen_stories Twitter