Connected

No one had to tell me we were going to have an "early" fall this year.

I just had to watch and listen to the sounds of nature.

The crickets this morning were all singing in a steady unison, not the chirp chirp here and there but a streaming, full-throated chorus.    

No one had to tell me we were in for a cold and wet winter.

All I had to do was listen to my inner voice as I quietly morphed into the cosmic rhythm, observing the sunrise, the muted colors of the sky, the shape of the clouds, the fiery sunset and how busy the deer and squirrels were.  ~seasonal transition

The old oak nodded its leafy head as its branches swayed softly to and fro under the caress of a soft summer breeze that helped temper the sweltering heat.

I placed the little owl, a stuffed children's toy, in the crook of the old oak.

It nestled there, happily, and watched me with big owl eyes as I went about my work.

Blue birds flapped their wings and cavorted back and forth, twittering noisily throughout the old oak's leafy canopy.

We are all connected to earth.

The oak's roots reach deep within the earth for stability and nourishment.

The birds are sheltered from the wind and cold by its canopy.

The crickets live out their lives on the ground and then run for cover under a blanket of leaves when it starts to rain.  

We are born here, we live out our lives here and we die here, only to be returned to the earth from whence we came.

Silence.  It speaks to you.  It quiets you down so you can think.

Thinking leads to contemplation.  

Contemplation leads to meditation.

Meditation leads to God.

Take a moment, wherever you are, and give thanks.

Thanks for being here.

Thanks for being able to journey here.

Think about those little ones who were never permitted the chance to even make it here while others had their lives tragically cut short.

Make the most of this day that was freely given to you and, in return, do something to make someone else's day a bit brighter.

It's called "humanity".  

Pass it on.