Next to the ephemeral exuberance of the grass, the roots provide depth and grounding, a testimony to the history of the tree. In the slow time of meditation I practice observing each sound with attention. A bumblebee on the lawn works the tiny plantain blossoms, methodically gathering the morning pollen with self-absorbed buzzing. A large blue dragonfly whirs through the open air. Up in the trees scrub jays squabble with squirrels over territorial rights.
Acorn woodpeckers call back and forth, scolding intruders.
Each sound is surrounded by a generous spaciousness. Each sound is connected to a specific individual and event. In the silence of walking I hear each relation. Cultivating this practice of mindfulness is painstaking and demanding. In each moment of observing a leaf, a squawk, a firm touch, there is the temptation to make it something more than it is - an object of fascination, a delirium of nature bonding, a symphony of deliberate orchestration.