I spent the weekend with these harmonious souls walking a wee part of the Bruce Trail on an Autumn Retreat with the theme, Letting Go. The trail was quite difficult in parts and because of the drizzle, it was also slippery. This meant that I needed to pay attention to where my feet landed.
This part of the trail is in wine country. So one is constantly hearing the boom of canon’s being set off in order to keep the birds from eating the maturing grapes. It’s an interesting juxtaposition of nature sounds and booms.
One of our retreat facilitators led the walk and the other came behind to make sure no one was left behind or in trouble. This was very comforting.
We sat on the moss, without words.
This is what I wrote:
Long before your were conceived of I Am.
I Am the falling water.
I Am the smooth rock.
I Am the soft green moss, carpet for your weary rambling.
I Am the smell of the decomposition.
I Am the fragrance of my tears on fallen leaf.
I Am the sound of rain dripping from the canopy.
I Am the swirling eddies.
I Am the calm pool.
I Am the water against stone.
I Am the ancient gnarly roots.
I Am the hidden nest in the branches.
I Am the cool breeze.
I Am the cleft in the rock.
I Am the canon boom protecting the harvest.
I Am the rich hummus.
I Am the skirt of yellow.
I Am the blanket of red.
I Am the evergreen.
I Am the joy of birdsong.
I Am the slippery foothold.
I Am the steep climb.
I Am the glacier’s path.
I Am your deepest longing.
What did this post stir up in you?