Do you feel her?
A shiny dewdrop balances itself on the edge of a blade
As stiff limbs of the mighty Oak sway to the wind.
My fingertips move hungrily on its bark exploring unexpected ups and downs.
The smell of the fragrant wet soil below rises to meet my nostrils.
The damp chill of an early misty morning reminds my skin of what it can bear.
Oblivious dragonflies merrily play over a fresh yellow flower as if celebrating her presence.
I often ruminate on the nature of the world.
And the ephemeral nature of existence and the collective whole.
Every time I choose to sit in her lap for a few quiet moments.
Mother Nature sings to me her song of wisdom.
She offers all that she knows, lives and is.
A mirror reflecting the power I have within me to perceive, relate and define.
She flows into all that is, forever in continuum.
Whispering constantly the sweet song of a bird.
What are you choosing dear one?
What we choose to allow is what becomes true for us.
Some are clear in the center and some lie at the hazy edge of my peripheral shore.
Nothing ever outside her unbounded circle.
All that is has a pulse to which we all dance.
The ability to know the truth of who we are and own ourselves fully can be scary.
And yet what else exists?
The incantations that echo inward chant this holy truth.
To sense interbeingness is seeing the truth through her eyes.
A thriving ecosystem of all things material and not.
I, my friend, the stranger on the road and the person on the other side of the line I draw.
We all walk our known and unknown terrains.
Crisscrossing paths as our eyes meet for a few moments or maybe not at all.
All encounters are in her realm and always serving.
Living this revelation is the destiny of the ones we may call wild.
It's the wilderness that gives them the patterns they proudly own.
It is what makes them seemingly unpredictable and mesmerizing.
As they relentlessly only follow the rhythm of her song.
The time of standing and living from the perception of the old Self is over.
The joys we have lived and shared have been many.
Grateful for all we move on to only arrive again.
Hearing her invitation in every moment of our invocation.
To live this human life is to embrace and revel in the paradox of all that she is.
A life well lived lies in and between the ebb and flow of her ever swirling waters.
An expansive space that warrants nothing.
And yet holds all that is and that can ever be possible.
Do you feel her?