It brings me joy to watch these animals in their natural habitat. Observing them through my binoculars amidst the ripe field of bursting heavy seeded grasses and yellow flowers close to the ground. It brings me peace and wonder to feel so much aliveness. The greens and hues of reds of ripening grass pearls swaying in the wind announcing, heralding their life force. How truly beautiful!
To watch a bird drink from a natural stream instead of a puddle on a concrete sidewalk. To observe baby owls being fed by their mother or a young one very curious eyeing my every move below the tree. I am just being another animal in the natural rhythm of earth’s cycle. The profundity of space within the branches reaching out into sacred architecture without pride that “I did this!” The finches, with their varying red masks or scarlet breasts, and their songs that get passed on to their children. Yes, fathers pass on their songs to their little birdies, dialect and all even in the bird kingdom. And human fathers do the same to their offsprings. Ah, if fathers really knew the songs they carry and pass on! Would they pay more attention to this legacy of passing on the framework and the language of surviving and thriving of the young?
Do you know that songs have vibrations? And vibrations make you move, shimmer, crystallize in different formations? Yes the crystalline structures of water (you and I are made mostly of them) move to sound. The field is called cymatics. In my world, it is called sound healing or sound bath. Part of my work is to sing to the bones of the spine and they move. I also sing to mountains and streams, people and animals. Just as the wind howling or whispering through the trees leave their etchings into my soul and body, so do our songs for each other.
There is this intimacy with the breeze blowing the tendrils of my hair reaching into my marrows. It is no different than the scalloping clouds cascading in shades of silver and bone with slivers of charcoal illuminating the thingness of light like no other this mid morning of spring. Have you watched light lately? The glow, the subtlety, the intensity, the viscosity, the delicateness. Was there reverence or simply objectification? Was the luminous external, internal or transcended the division of you and other?
The patterns on agave leaves etching themselves unto my heart as fingerprints of another fellow creature sharing this planet earth. We imprint each other. How do you choose to leave your mark on this world?