This Morning Under a Tree

February 3rd, 2013 by

By Madeline Ebelini

This morning I sit in a chair, wrapped in a quilt, under a tree.

Eyes closed.

I feel the weight of my body, the gravitational pull of the Earth, connecting me.

I feel the movement of my belly with the breath, gently pulsing in and out, from within.

A wind chime hanging from the tree softly sounds with the breeze.

A bird calls, and when the breath is very soft and easy,

and the mind is immersed in the present,

dozens of  birds can be heard chattering in the distance.

An occasional “dust devil” arises,

pulling my attention into thinking, remembering, re-living.

Ah . . . . “Feel the whirlwind of this dust devil spinning the mind”.

Witness as it settles and comes to rest.

Then  . . . .the faithful pull of gravity connecting body to chair.

The gently pulsing breath within.

The truth . . . Here. Now.

The warmth of the quilt,

the soft sounds of the chime,

To “let go” into just this . . .

To let go of concepts and pre-made ideas, of push and pull, altogether.

To be just this sitting, this breathing, this hearing, this living.

 

I open my eyes.

The sun, shining through the tree

creates a blanket of soft, dappled light everywhere.

The moment beautiful, tender, and alive.

The murmur of a far away plane passes somewhere overhead.

I wrap the quilt around me and breathe in.

Image: Jim Liestman flickr.com/photos/gods-art

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