I look at your massive sillouette against the sky, your rich green scaled leaves on drooping branchlettes that flow in the moving air. You, and Others who stand along with you, stand as guardians for the space in which I live.
I stand quietly in salute to you all.
I hear the winds blow through you, the rains caress you, the birds singing in the sunrise and sunset from you, the squirrels and chipmunks skittering around you.
And I wonder, what do you want me to hear?
What do you want to tell me? What do you need me to know? I try to hear you, but I am not listening for “listening” is to infer that you “speak”, an inherently human trait.
No, to hear you I must stop actively listening and just be— come in to being—become.
The act of becoming leads me to use all of my senses to allow the awareness that exists in everything around me to exist within me.
Maybe what you want to tell me is to listen to what I am hearing, not to what I am being told.