Late Summer Visitation

I stand at the threshold to acknowledge this everyday sacred space. It is where blacktop gives way to soft dirt and brown pine needles, the din of fast moving cars blends into insect song and the entangled heart and mind gently release.

I tilt my face to the highest boughs and spots of peaking blue sky and I close my eyes. “I am here to feel loved and to seek guidance from the elders who stand so tall. I am here to be held. May I enter?” I open my eyes to find their “yes” in the dappled spots of sunlight that map a way onward on the trail’s surface.

I walk with intention to be greeted, to be held and to hear. Just ahead of me is a man pulling his oxygen tank while his little untethered doggie companion meanders along the path, always close by. I am reminded of my dear friend, Linda, who, even when her battered lungs could no longer hold enough air for her to feel secure, kept moving forward, always seeking more life.

A little further down the trail, I encounter the miniature version of my grown up doggies and ask their companions if I might say hello. They are in a form I never got to encounter in my already growing and partially shaped fur babies, rescued beyond the brand new puppy stage. I squat down and feel this little being’s softness and revel in their purity and trust as they nuzzle, sniff and kiss me. Tiny Buddha is his name. I nudge my small self out to see that close connection can be open and free.

At the water’s edge, I sit beneath the trees caressed by the breeze and serenaded by gently shaking leaves—a few of them scarlet colored already letting go. I am enveloped by bird talk and butterfly dance and wavy, watery reflections that remind me that nature does not hold back or constantly self-edit. I hear, “ You can only be whole when you are your natural self. Come into your fullness. There are arms opened everywhere here waiting to receive all that is glorious about you.”

I came here to be adored and held and to take in the wisdom of the forest. These words spoke themselves to me and wrote their way through me as we were woven together into one. I am, in fact, nature and, so, always beloved.