Attending earth
The Japanese rose bush down my street, pictured above, is one of the many things bringing me back down to earth. Every morning I take my neighborhood walk — at least one a day, that’s what I’m committed to. It’s grounding to my nervous system to begin each day in the fresh dewy morning air while listening to birdsong, gesturing to my body a signal of safety.
In the afternoon, I’ll occasionally take a second walk. Still, the air smells sweet. I walk to the pond and watch the turtles lay their eggs in the sand. I listen to the rushing water of the small waterfall. I cross the wooden bridge and smell the sweet perfume of the Japanese honeysuckle. I see a log and think it’s a human and scare myself in the way dogs or babies get scared of their own shadows.
My daily strolls remind me of… well, me. Pearls of wisdom gently remembered throughout my day, a daily scavenger hunt. Everything is a cycle of arriving and forgetting and arriving and forgetting and arriving and forgetting until arriving actually becomes remembering.