Forest Meditation
There I was in the front of a canvas unimaginable by the greatest earthly artists. The valley laid before me, a floor of dark deep green. Over topped by white patches strewn amongst fir trees. The sky, vast and expansive, stretched over my head. I was suddenly hit with the feeling of the presence of divinity. I was standing before its magnum opus.
It was during this moment I felt a gods presence. Not one who bothers in the monotony of my day to day. But an energy present at the creation of all matter. An unbroken series of events from Big Bang to this forest valley. This energy I could feel in the wind, I could smell in the pines, I could see in the expanse. I could see the thread. The energy is always in the present yet affects all of time right now, into the heat death of the universe, and in the beginning.
I could hear the birds around me. Common jays cawed out in the distance. A buzzing bug somewhere. The wind blowing through the leaves above. An orchestral performance of total presence. Notes coming and going like the ticking of the seconds on a stop watch. Travel we cannot to the previous tik of the hand, yet barely do they exist.
It was here that I grounded myself. In between the past and present.
The present moment felt like a wave running over me, yet instead of panic I accepted it. And it was good. I was content. I listened to my breath as a reminder of the fleeting moment. For breath is both controllable, and yet, will happen without my control. The yin to its yang.
I closed my eyes as another gust of wind sang through the pine needles.
The sounds of the universe.
I thought about the moment, how all of time is a ribbon sewn from threads of every other fleeting moment. How the mountains carved themselves moment by moment.
The thoughts of the universe.
The spread of the force, ever present in everything is here. In me, with me, around me, through me. Yet “me” is only a construct of my ego, for I will exist in some form after the “me” that loses its conscious grasp of this reality. Yet existence will go on. The one I alluded to as god earlier will push the moment away. If time is infinite then I know I will be born again. If it is not then we are all just moments. As ego fades into the abyss we forget ourselves. Time is nothing, null, nonexistent. Even the most solid bedrock is just a blip on a cosmic scale. The only unchanging constant is the ticking of time.
Here in this forest valley, I met creation. Deeply moving to me, yet unmovable by me.
