This morning was purely magical. One of these warm, quiet mornings that soothed my soul.
The peace and tranquility took a while to seep in, though, and, ironically, it was the rapid tap-tap-tapping of a visiting Woodpecker that finally did it. I quietly put down my gardening tools, found a sun-drenched Palo Verde tree to lean against and listened to what some Native American tribes believe is the Heartbeat of the Earth, Woodpecker's rhythmic tapping.
I listened to the stillness.
I listened with more than my ears and eyes this time. I felt the slight breeze of warm air on my skin, smelled the scent of early lemon blossoms, heard the other sounds of activity going on around me which I'd been oblivious to: the calling of Quail, the big black Raven chortling up in the palm tree and the whisper of his wings as he flew over me, the little Lizard scrambling up on a rock to catch some late season sun, the two Hummingbirds quarreling over dining rights to a nearby bush, one of the Dogs lapping some water from the pool. Only the World knows what other activities were going on that I didn't have the sensitivity to notice.
They are always there for me to tune into, these messages from nature. The World seems to be reminding me that its dialogue is coming to me through all the senses. Even now as I finish writing this a little Hawk is crying out from the top of a tall palm. All the other birds are quiet now, it is Hawk's turn. The beat goes on.
|To the victor, the spoils.|
|Temporarily sated from the endless chore of feeding herself.|