"Lie still, lie straight, let rain fall through your unbracketed body. Until grief tamps you to sand and you spread transparent, letting everything move through, wind and moisture, streams and clouds and hawks."
‘Grace’ by Barbara Crooker
My daily practice of sitting quietly in nature for an hour continues. Today is day 19 of my ritual.
As the fields around me green, I am gradually changing with them. At night, I dream more. There is less pain in my body. Meditation and sitting in nature have similar effects, but there is one significant difference: Sitting in nature evokes a sense of something watching me - a reciprocal, unspoken exchange. The gentle cadence of the natural world seems to reach out, expressing mutual admiration. I feel a generative love strengthening between us at each meeting, as if nature longs to nurture my awakening as much as I long for her comfort.
As I sit, I find myself humming a lot. I notice there are different songs for the dark and for the daylight. Despite the fact that I have felt scared in some ways, being alone in nature has become familiar and more homely in some ways than the walls I live in. In the fields, the wind has been my favorite visitor and companion, because it opens up some eternal tunnel around me, allowing me to find myself content inside it all. Loose leaf and blown, but belonging. The moment I walk into her, all opened and heart forward, she welcomes me and gives me the right footing.
I love reading the stories you have shared in the comments. If you feel called to share something, please do so. How has nature held you, or not held you, throughout your life? The type of connection you desire, the obstacles you face. I am fascinated by the mind and the heart, the way they push us forward and pull us back.
Gratitude in the heart.
I am grateful to each of you.
Love,
Sarah
Wild Voice Part 3