The closest to flying I've ever been is definitely when I'm running, straight down mountain trails with my arms wide open, mostly for balance but also to feel the air, feel the world on my hands, to feel the blessings in the air... Feet hitting soil, jumping over roots, rocks and running across bridges. The cedar and hemlocks are cathedrals of moss, cedar boughs and ferns...
Sometimes, I stand in random places among the trees, my arms are my branches and they reach for the sky, catching rain drops on each of my fingers. I imagine my roots buried deep within the earth. I pray and consider the moment. Imagine what it is to be a tree, to be in one place roots buried within the earth surrounded by my offspring. The patience of trees to stay in one place is overwhelming. I just want to dance around amidst the trees so they can move through me. I think that is one blessing the wind brings, because when the wind blows the trees dance.
I'm short on words tonight, but I haven't written in here for awhile. I've been amidst a major purging process, cleansing home and mind. Scrubbing my place top to bottom, emptying boxes and throwing things in the trash, dropping things at the thrift store. A time of change and of letting go.
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