Breathing
Being
Here
Is strange. Talk about an understatement.
“Look at your feet. You are standing in the sky.
When we think of the sky, we tend to look up, but the sky actually begins at the earth.” (1)
“We breathe it deep within us.” (2)
An aging traveler observes
A thin, worn path - cutting through quiet
Wrapped with fields and trees.
This year’s branches are held by last year’s branches.
Change sets in … supporting seasons.
Phenomena appears to surround.
You should see the lineup of intuitions, packing both sides of this trail.
Here, insight has a chance, because your mind isn’t tied up; bracing for yet another bell.
Stillness reigns.
Competition for your attention wanes.
Something dormant within you wakes from hearing nothing at all.
Silence is “the ultimate, word.” (5)
You have so little to do on this plain-old hike, that you end up remembering
“I’m breathing
Right down my middle.”
Strange.
Contemplation conceives.
Your conception of contentment, congruence and centering expands.
Entertain what’s stranger. Peace on earth
Held by some body with time
Walking through the sky.
(1) - Ackerman, Diane. A Natural History of the Senses. New York, Random House, 1990, p.236.
(2) - Ibid.
(3) - Tree Branch. Farmington, MN. 112814.
(4) - Tree Rings. Melbourne, Victoria. Australia. 083120.
(5) - Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Novato, New World Library. 1949. Reprinted 2008. P.305.
017 Breathing | 032023 | Jeff Holmberg