#89

When I close my eyes I can feel my home around me. I can feel the the grass and the leaves giving way beneath my bare feet. I can feel the wind weaving it’s way quietly through the trees and caressing my skin. I can feel the sun’s warmth filtering through the branches upon my face. I can smell the cedar-earth smell from the ground below me….and the things I hear. The birds, and the grass, the wind, the sound of my own heart beating and just the hum of forest itself.

Isn’t it funny that you can sometimes just reach inside yourself and pull that out of you like that? It doesn’t matter that I haven’t really listened to the woods for such a long time, I still remember and I hear without hearing. It’s weird that it’s as strong as it is; it’s even stronger than my memories of the girls I talk about so much. So perfect and so real. And not just some things, everything. If I wanted to walk I could walk, too. I can move around in that reverie and it’s as if I’m really there. Maybe I really am. Perhaps people discredit the spiritual more than they should.