Walking in the woods on a windless, snowy day is a walking meditation.
It's silent but for the sound of snowflakes.
That is the first thing you notice.
That is the first thing you notice.
Then you feel immediately removed from your kaleidescope life
as if a heavy curtain is being drawn behind you.
The woods is what is real now.
as if a heavy curtain is being drawn behind you.
The woods is what is real now.
Snowflakes kiss your cheeks.
The trees silently greet you and bear your passing against their branches.
You are among them now, they embrace you as one of their own.
Your attention is drawn into the exquisite pattern of snow on bark,
the dripping of ice-sleeved branches.
You pay attention but you remain wordless. Nothing demands a response.
It just is. It quietly unfolds it's being in front of you.
As you unfold yours.
The trees silently greet you and bear your passing against their branches.
You are among them now, they embrace you as one of their own.
Your attention is drawn into the exquisite pattern of snow on bark,
the dripping of ice-sleeved branches.
You pay attention but you remain wordless. Nothing demands a response.
It just is. It quietly unfolds it's being in front of you.
As you unfold yours.
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