A summer sit

Lost in the haze of thought.
Hot.
Sweaty.
Mosquitos bite me.
Cicadas deafen me.
The yellow jackets buzz at my feet.
I wonder if trusting them to not bite will suffice.
An edge of uncertainty...
I blow a mosquito off my arm.
A pine cone falls to the ground.
Where is the water?
Where is the rain?
Lightening bugs flash yellow.
Dusk approaches.
Sweat upon my brow.
My butt hurts. Shifting seems impossible.
Teetering on the edge of enjoying myself and discomfort.
In winter when I was dressed in my snow suit I wondered what summer would feel like.
I have no tangible memory of the cold.
It was just cold. 
There are no words to describe it.
Winter has faded away.
Yet, here I sit again begging the seasons to teach me more.
My mind drifts into the lostness that is thought...
Two Red bellied woodpeckers call out through the quiet.
Through the pines.
On the warm breeze.
They let the other know where they are.
"I" know where they are.
The warbler sings in the tree tops.
My mind returns to the surface of the here and now.
It comes up for air.
The beauty of the sit spot.
I shift.
I adjust.
I sit.

Written 7/7/12 (day 218)

Sit Spot Day 84

It wasn't my intention to write today.  Naturally, I have about a billion things left to do before Kalib and I leave for Nashville, so inspiration hits and I have to put it off a little longer... go figure...

Today was my 84th day of getting up in the morning and going to sit in the woods and watch the birds and animals.  Jason says at this point, I'm a goof ball for keeping up with my days, but somehow keeping up with it seems to keep me motivated. 

As one might suspect, there are days that are amazing and there are days that are not so amazing.  Oddly enough rainy days are often my favorite and especially the day after a good rain shower.  Today, was one of those amazingly beautiful days in the woods.

When I sat down at 7:05 this morning (yes, I also keep up with the time I am there so I can track the birds as they come and go) the fog was heavy on the forest floor and the birds were giving up their morning songs to the sun. 

I sat there for an hour and half and the birds came and they went and they came and they went and three different squirrels passed right in front of me and many more ran behind me. 

I watched the sun peak from behind the trees as it pushed the clouds apart.  It lifted the fog as it began its journey across the sky today. 

The drops of rain splashed to the floor as the birds perched upon them and began singing their songs to one another. 

 It was a beautiful morning.

  



http://www.123rf.com/photo_2677048_sunrise-on-a-foggy-morning-in-the-grampians-forest.html

As I was heading down the path home, I had this thought...

"Mornings like this morning make going out worth everything it is.  There was no more than there always is.  Some days I become more than I normally am and it seeps in deeper.  I breathe."

I looked to the sun as it shown on my face and then down to the ground and at my feet was a tiny snail. 

http://www.naturephoto-cz.com/roman-snail:helix-pomatia-photo-1159.html



My first day at Grey Fox the kids found a snail and we named it "Snooky."  We made up a song about it, we checked into facts about it and shared them with one another the next week.  It was a happy day.  I was reminded of that day and the mystery of the snail and how little I knew about it.  How little I know about life.

I had the above thought return to my mind and I felt appreciation and gratitude and my heart felt full.

Life IS the miracle.

Be well.

Sarah

Day 50

Back sometime in December - well 50 days ago - I set the goal of going to a sit spot in the woods for 30 days in a row for at least 10 minutes a day.  Most days I am able to sit for an hour.  Today, I'm on day 50 and continuing to look forward to the continual joy I get from sitting in the woods watching the birds and animals as they do what they do best - strive to survive. 

http://a1gaurav.wordpress.com/2011/06/14/292/

As I sat in the cold rain this morning this is something I wrote...

"The rain is a symphony of sound. Each drop its own unique voice singing in time with the sweet songs of the chickadees and titmice as they dance under the canopy flitting from branch to branch."

Until next time-

Sarah