Something I wrote back in June that I felt like sharing today:
The rain started down as soon as we got to the trail. Not too hard, not for too long. The trees caught most of the drops before they reached us. The air was thick and heavy. The smell of the crushed asphalt path we walked on was very strong. But there were a few brief moments when the sweet smell of the forest blew down to kiss my face. We were very excited to see a baby turtle swimming in the lake. There were lots of fish to watch, too. There is a special energy in this place–warm and calming.
I come here to listen to the birds–I almost forgot to listen today. The birds sounded happy. They told me to love my babies.
This is the poem that came to me the last time I visited this spot, in February:
A Bird Without Flight
My heart still soars
Every night at arm’s length;
The struggle tires me-
I prepare to rest
Surrendering to earth,
I wrap comfort around me;
Making peace with this place,
I had recently drawn this bird, and I couldn’t figure out why it only had one wing.
I’m trying to remember a time, if there ever was one, when every day didn’t feel like a struggle. There must have been. I wonder what it felt like.
In yoga class, we are always reminded to let go of the struggle when in a pose. Am I holding on to something somewhere that I just need to let go of? I guess I will need to breathe, and think about this.