The other day I realized I hadn’t been meditating as much lately. I’ve gotten so caught up in the detritus of life and I can tell the difference. It’s amazing how the simple act of meditating on a consistent basis can shift your life for the better.
When you stop or let it fall off quite a bit, after awhile you’ll notice a subtle void that wasn’t there before.
I often see animals and other kinds of life while out in nature. It happens frequently enough that it’s become a communion of sorts with my friends out there.
When I see them, I feel this sense of quietness and acceptance beneath their skin, an “okay-ness” with their world as it is.
I always want to get to know them better. That’s nothing new, mankind always has by way of capturing them, inspecting them in laboratories or putting them in zoos, etc. to observe them, and so on.
But it’s not real, nor as authentic. You cannot really “know” these beings in that way. They’re creations of God, our Universe. To really know them is to embrace them in their true essence, as God intended them to be… As pure and free spirits, in an environment that’s home.
To really know these creatures is to quietly melt yourself into their environ, open all your senses and especially your heart. This is how you “listen” and feel them, to sink into who they are, that quiet embrace that turns into an intimate connection in and of nature.
That’s when you start to feel the magic, the oneness, where you realize that you, too, are an animal, a creation of nature just as much as they are and you have a common bond with them.
Have you ever pondered ownership of land on earth? While it is a solid concept in practice, if you step back and look at it from a universal perspective, it seems arbitrary, perhaps even silly.
It just seems odd when see it from that non-human perspective — you have people claiming to own a piece of earth when it’s really not ours to begin with in the grand scheme of nature.
If you try and trace back ownership of a plot of land all the way back to the first/original “owner” you’ll find no provenance beyond that. Just that one day a person roped off an area and decided it was theirs to own, sell, or give. In other words, there’s no original authority at the end of the chain, so it’s almost like the entire concept of property ownership is a house of cards.
In an example of irony, the native american indians understood this, they felt as stewards of the land, not owners. And yet the the first “explorers” of the land they lived on took it from them and said it was theirs. You could say these caretakers were robbed.
In reality, all this land we live on was never owned by anyone, nor did it belong to anyone.
The colors out on the Tuscawilla Preserve are surreal around sunset, esp. with orange rays shining through the moss on these beautiful oak trees. The green trail looks like something out of a movie as it winds beyond the tree. If you follow it, you’ll end up on the edge of a sometimes dried lake with hundreds of birds about, akin to scenes long before humankind’s footprint ever trod here. Close by is an ancient indian burial ground. Whenever I mediate here, I often “hear” drums beating within and a breeze always kicks up, perhaps a sign from our native american brothers that they’re still around in spirit. Chehuntamo!