Spent some time outside this morning, then camped out on the front porch for a bit. Just watching the breeze in the trees and listening to the birds. Closed my eyes, steadied my breathing and drifted a bit visualizing a valley I was gifted with a few years ago.
I found myself on a dirt road, it looked well traveled. There were smaller tracks leading into the trees and undergrowth. I couldn’t hear anything besides the forest sounds but could see smoke rising-households or farms at the other side?
Then I heard water and found myself next to or in a stream or pool surrounded by trees, bushes over hanging the water and water grasses on the edges. I could see the rocky bottom through the dappled water so I think it was shallow enough to cross but I couldn’t see a path on the other side, so I didn’t feel invited to cross. I’d heard splashing sounds when I heard the water but wasn’t invited to see more than that.
Okaaaaaay. I wasn’t thinking about water when I started, but now that I think about it, this has happened before. I’ll start on a road or path with no water in sight or sound and suddenly I’m next to water. And I’ll admit that a favorite haiku is the one that reads in it’s most basic version. “Old mossy pond, big frog, the sound of water.” And I was reading Tom Cowan’s version of Cormac and the Salmon of Wisdom. Sooooo. I guess somebody’s hinting that I need to explore water and what might be in it or around it. Must explore.
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