A Forest Meditation

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“Shall we meditate?” was what I said to hubby when I saw this bench in the woods last weekend. Not wanting to feel the questioning looks of passersby, I suggested to face the woods instead of the path.

The forest doesn’t question. It accepts my presence and what I do. It watches without judgment, just like it does for every living thing in it. It breathes in what I breathe out and I breathe in what it breathes out. The rustle of the leaves echo my thoughts which I release. Or does the act of releasing cause the rustling? I’m part of this forest, that’s what it’s telling me. The boundaries are all in my mind.

The timer went off. We stood up and moved on.

But the lesson remains.

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A Forest in the Fall

ImageA walk in the woods when autumn is being born is a special treat. Leaves are turning and some have fallen, crunching as feet walk upon them. Mushrooms are sprouting and acorns are falling. Birds flutter by and sing their songs. There’s something moving in the underbrush. What’s that? The damp earth sticks to thick soles, embed themselves into grooved shoe bottoms, and brought back home to adorn clean floors. And what did I find on the forest floor? A fat heart full with thanksgiving, just like mine.