This is a word painting combinining thoughts from two walks on clear days. The first part, some thoughts while heading back from my long walk, the second while out for a walk on a beautiful cloudless night.
Are we asleep or awake at this very moment? Walking down the pathway, the embrace of the universe, open clarity. Looking out in glassy eyed wonder as the stream thunders past, as the planes fly overhead, as the trees stand in perfect stillness in their place.
Sometimes I wonder, on days that are clear, whether, I am in a dream or whether I am asleep. It is as though the world has yet to be enlivened, that its spirit is at rest. It is at these times when I feel the breath of the earth as a living entity a soft kiss against my skin.
I am waiting in breathless anticipation for a revelation of my own essence, the clarity of the sky seems to be the open conduit to the heavens and though I walk amongst the open aired wonder of trees and birds, mountains and streams, my soul is aware of the spirit of all that I pass.
Awareness, I feel the presence of others as I pass aware of their awareness. I feel their eyes on me as I walk, the clear day having turned to inky black night.
I am aware of the shuffling sound of my steps on the pavement, the halted conversations as I pass, the slowing down of cars as they see me, the silent conversation between pedestrian and driver as I look towards a car to convey my intent to cross. I don’t see them inside, but I know they have picked up the signal.
I am aware of the people in their homes, and the homes where no one lives. What essence enlivens a place, fills it with a spirit that can be felt by those who pass?
I am aware of the cats as they slink along in the trees. The trees that I reach out to, to touch the buds of emerging leaves, lightly feeling them against the tips of my fingers.
I am aware of the blood coursing through my body as I push it to go up the hill, the muscles as they warm to their task, my breath as my lungs fill to compensate for the exertion.
The hill rises before me, the power lines overhead course along as though they too are moving. They move against the clear dark sky and the image of the warrior, revered from ancient times comes into view.
I turn around to descend and feel as though I stand on top of the world, aware of my place, a soul in the vast universe. Connected with the feeling of the ground beneath my feet and the air as I walk dances along my arms and against my face, picking up the strands of my hair.
The feeling encourages me to run, run down the hill, forcing the breath of the earth to increase, forcing my hair to trail out behind me and the wind to rush against my ears. My own breath increasing again to match the increase of speed as I rush down the hill, feet tumbling over each other until I reach the bottom.
The silent wanderer heads towards home again, wondering at the reality of each step as I go. Wondering as I gaze up at the moon, at the clouds which are making their silent pilgrimage across the sky.
As I open the door to my home, the sound of the television, the hum of the refrigerator, the greeting of my children all seem more real than the world which I have left. The world where my spirit fly’s aloft in the sky’s.