I just settled in from a meditation retreat this weekend, "Sacred Spaces". One of the ideas was to meet with like-minded people to meditate over the weekend and increase conscious awareness. We covered six principles and did a lot of meditating in various form to facilitate this. Amazing.
One part of my weekend was following a trail on the land that we retreated on. Getting away from the busy city life was challenging at first. Once I quieted inside and focused on the woods and all of nature around me I forgot about work and duties and frenetic things and acknowledged quite a lot. Someone wise advised me to write out short bursts of what that was. Here they are:
+ At first, my mind and my chest pined for the confusion of the hectic city. How comfortable that chaos can be. I'm surprised how easy I let it go and walked on.
+ Wind just stirred up a bit of ways behind me. Catching up to me now. I'm gonna stand still. It is here with me right now. Loud - but quiet. Moves past me. It's like a wave. It's alive like me.
+ Some brush is a light, hazy purple. I thank it out loud for being purple. Felt odd and right all at once.
+ The Earth is wet and sloppy. My shoes are bright white. They mingle. Who cares today? It is okay. It is good even.
+ I see a Jack Rabbit. Whoa. Hey, there! He didn't say hi back. But he didn't ignore me like the city ignores me. Oh, look! He has a trail he is on, too. He's gone.
+ I can hear the gang behind me. I speak then walk off to the side. They pass. I stay out with this field that is open and wide and I stand with intermittent sun.
+ Walking + Breathing + Pausing + Walking
+ Breathing + Pausing + Stretching
+ I stopped and "sent" some of this stillness and wholeness to the inner city and to twitter and to Wall Street and to the Middle East. Hope I bring some back in me.
+ I see some dew on a thorny branch. I touched it. I tasted it. I rubbed some on my face and neck.
+ The birds are having a choir practice up top. A lot of 'em showed up for rehearsal. I can pick out the sopranos and the altos. The woodpecker is on percussion. I nod my head a bit to the beat.
+ The air is so clean at first it burns.
+ I thought of work. That's none of my business now. I let it go.
+ Twigs crunch and snap from my weight.
+ I have no sense of time out here. Huh.
+ I am home now. I still smell the woods on me. I hope I smell it for a long time.
