It's strange - returning to words after these weeks of meditative silence.
It's stretching my legs after a long car ride. It's reaching my arms to the sky. It's exercising those muscles that have found themselves dormant in the discomfort of the still.
And - I'm not sure if I'm ready...and I'm sure that I am.
I'm never quite sure of anything anymore. I know only that it's in the showing-up that the unfolding happens. Once and again - here I am.
My knees soften. My head drops. My toes spread. My heart listens.
The ground hasn't shifted. I have.
It's August. These precious days of summer are half-way done. I've walked new walks on old familiar paths.
I've followed new trails that have only served to return me home.
The landscape is always different. And it's always the same.
I breathe in and breathe out. Nothing's changed. Everything has.
This morning's sun rises - just as always - over the far distant horizon. It burns the colors of hot embers in a sky still and darkened.
Some days - I believe. It's magic.
The cows continue to graze in their green pastures - oblivious to the miracle of this day's light. I wonder what it might be like.
To be them. Endlessly grazing.
Are they happy? Does it matter? I wondered.
Without any promises - it's still summer. I'm still mixing things up and turning them around. I'll be here. I'll be there.
I'll be wherever my heart leads me. There may be words. There may not.
I want to bend with the wind....to bow deeply....to savor each last drop...to soak it all in.
It's good to be back...to hear the sound of my voice...to re-connect.
And the miracle of it all is in the sun.
It still rises.