sitting with existence

Photograph by zaji • April 7, 2016 • circa 1:30pm CST

I’m sitting outside on the grass, writing. The ground beneath me is cool and firm. The sun is almost at the top of the sky, peeking through the trees I’ve chosen to hide under. The air is still and warm. The leaves barely rustle.

Photograph by zaji • April 7, 2016 • circa 1:30pm CST

Tiny bugs crawl onto the cloth I’ve placed on the ground. I spray a mixture of rosemary oil and distilled water into the air to keep some away. Those who don’t mind are persistent and join me as I read a work by James Baldwin.

I am mindful of the fence, the dogs barking and the moving shade. It inches away from me causing me to move further under the trees. Eventually I am overtaken by the sun and I can no longer follow the shade. So I sit with it and allow it to beam down on my skin the many rays carrying the past. Encapsulated stories spread across the lawn. The sun tells every blade about its existence and what it has seen since it was born.

I want to hear the whispers and understand the words. But it is too much, too fast and in a language I cannot translate, much less hear. We are far removed from what was once a natural ability.

Now, I try to hear with tainted ears the stories of Earth told by the sun. The sound is ever so faint. But I keep listening in hopes that great truths will come through. Even more, great answers to sometime small questions.

Photograph by zaji • April 7, 2016 • circa 1:30pm CST

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