When despair for the world grows in me,
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be—
I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water,
and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought or grief.
I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light.
For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
The great blue was one of my dad’s favorite birds, along with the similar white egret. They always fill me with a sense of awe, of magic and stillness, even when they aren’t spectacularly framed by fog.
They are graceful, stately, BIG, and immensely soothing to the soul…
and observant. Infuriatingly camera-shy.
I chased this one back and forth, back and forth, running the muddy trail and creeping down the briar-filled banks.
It was, if I am being quite honest, one of the most enjoyable hours I’d spent in quite some time.
Meditation wears many faces…
a church is where you find it.