Ever a time when the world is still. No blaring bugle’s, no honking horns, no ticker of audible news, no name calling, no threats, no one telling us they are right. Always right, never wrong–we are wrong.
Silence, pure silence, rolling off the evergreen hills, penetrating my bones. Lavishing in serene peace as blades of grass ebb and flow; its cares rolling on the back of the silence that surrounds it. Everything evolves, cascading deeper into an unknown world, understanding more, more, ever more still.
Truth is beauty and simplicity. Empathy that carries all of us from cradle to grave. Empathy feeding us from the depths of the soil that roots us; giving of she far more than she gets.
Marvelous are the whims of nature that harbor a safe haven for all; its kaleidoscope of color and sound, of intelligence that enables creation of self-awareness, her patience for the new and old, of micro-organisms that grow in darkness, of quirky boundless rules that spawn new life. How fortunate are we to live in such a place. A place for which we demand so much, pillage and destroy, burn and and lay claim to, control and hold power over. We break every promise. She stands by us still.
Let us look deeper into the womb that bore us all; to understand, appreciate, and accept. Her hills are vast, her colors profound, her water pure. All she asks is that we sit and listen for a while.