Writing from the Soul
I return to the river where I first found tranquility. It's more like a creek really, but has the personality of something much bigger.
The water rushed by my feet, as I stripped them naked, and cooled them in it's sparkling paradise. Alone with my thoughts, and able to let them trickle through my mind as they would, one by one. Eventually my mind was clear as I let each one have it's glory and then fade away. The air whispered songs from my ancestors, and I listened with an open heart trying to learn from them. Frogs near by croaked and looked for their mate. Deer trampled in the weeds where I could not see them, and they could not see me. Beavers continued about, nawing on wood and building a bridge. Bees jumped from flower to flower attracted by their beauty and scent. There in the woods by my father's home, I started to see all the wonderful things that city life did not offer to me. There I could breath and live for each moment. I could rid myself of the hussle and bussle, and see things more clearly. I will forever remember the smells in the air, and the peace that came over me. When I emerged from the woods, and back to the road, I felt whole again. In those woods, I will return to the river when I need to feel my spirit be lifted. It is now my sacred place where all things harmonious surround me and let me feel their love. A place where I can smile to the Gods and they smile back.