Receptive ground

Soft, wet Jarrah forest

It’s been raining for a day and a half now: long, soft, soaking showers falling through the still, breathing bush. Drops of rain sound in a hundred ways: on the perspex, corrugated iron and metal gutters of the hut; on wet soil, leaf litter, puddles, living branch, log. My ears are drinking. Outside the shelter a thick white sky. The light is cool and bright and all seems illuminated without casting a shadow. My eyes roam around the green cloak of the treetops and the vertical greys and browns and blacks of the trunks – a patch of copper leaves, bright red growth on a stubby young Eucalypt, a yellow-cream flower stalk – the only colours that break this gentle monotony. It’s chilly and my feet in their dirty blue thongs are itchy and a bit cold; I’d happily put on more layers but the rest of my walker’s ascetic wardrobe is sweat-damp and smelly. It hasn’t quite come to that yet! With my belly full of tea, my dirty fingernails, my chilly feet and a whole afternoon of writing and reading before me, I feel as rich, heavy and content as the soaking forest floor. Receptive ground.

Later that evening as the sun set

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About Lucy

I am a pilgrim, singer, artist, writer, researcher... I like trees, people, reading, swimming, flowers and the sky.
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4 Responses to Receptive ground

  1. Dina says:

    Well, I guess comfort isn’t everything. So let’s see what sprouts in you as the wet day goes on.
    Shalom Lucy!

  2. Suzanne says:

    The image of an afternoon of writing and reading with a belly full of tea is beautiful. Get some rest and enjoy the moment.

  3. Patsy Smith says:

    Just glad to hear from you and all is well.

  4. willv says:

    “all seems illuminated without casting a shadow”

    … sounds like a haiku-summary of 1000 years of contemplative spirituality and analytical psychology.

    I think its working ….

    Keep on walking thus towards your heart !

    :-^

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