top of page

shifting as One

A Redtail Hawk launched from a very old Oak tree.


I felt the feathers on my cheeks ruffling in the contact of the wind as I was gliding, floating, watching with my watch full eyes. I turned my head slightly to the right and tipped my wing ever so slightly down as I headed toward a large grove of tall evergreen trees. The trees were crowded together. It was a large forest on the side of a mountain. As I approached one of the taller trees, I pulled up, stretching my wings out and pressing my breast forward. I felt the resistance of the air to my spread feathers as I began to slow in mid air. I landed, with precision, my toes reaching wide, my claws outstretched, to find the branch. I felt the bounce of my weight in the bend of the long skinny tip of this tree as I pulled my wings back in to my body. I settled. I looked around, surveying this vast stretch of trees. I could see large rocks, a river below in the valley. I settled in to the rhythm of my breath as I quietly noticed the textures of the landscape before me. The air was bright and cold. My awareness flowed forward.

My vision grew sleepy. My weight seemed to shift in some unfamiliar way. I felt myself sliding inward. My thoughts drifted off into the abyss.

Breathing softly, I became aware of my branches. I could feel each individual needle, the way they attached to the thin twigs, each curve of my stout branches. I could feel the cluster of patiently waiting new growth buds on each tip of each branch. I was aware of the movement of water traveling just underneath my textured bark. It moved slowly, I noticed that it felt so...fluid, easy, natural. Turning my attention to my roots, I felt the texture of the soil that I was so intimately involved with. I could hear a whisper of conversation, an ancient language between the earth and my being-ness. Aware again of my breathing, I noticed my community, the tall trees I shared space with. We whispered to each other, keeping the secrets alive, remembering when we were seeded. Remembering when we first felt the warmth of the sun as we sprouted, drinking solar energy deeply. Remembering growing together, stretching each year as we sang our songs. Bird's nests, playing squirrels, and the occasional resting Hawk. Breathing softly, quietly, being the Stillness, I noticed the big snowflakes that had begun to lazily tumble from cold gray sky, landing so gently, slowly melting deliciously.


....to be continued.......



120 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Wanderer

Harvest

bottom of page