With winter rains, our stream is flowing again after it`s long summer`s silence. Even when the wind roars through the trees at night I can hear the stream`s undertone. On a misty morning I walk downhill beside it, listening more than looking. It is a long thread of music ;the high trill of water flowing over gravel, the plunging deeper tone of a waterfall into a pond, the sibilant sound of little rapids. All changing and blending as I walk along. Other grace notes wind in and out: the breath of air in the forest canopy, eagle and raven calls, the neighbours sheep, even the chainsaw across the valley ,the floatplane in the distance and my own footsteps, my clothes scraping against the salal undergrowth. Such a simple thing. So beautifully real. The voice of the world.
"People say that what we`re all seeking is a meaning for life....I think that what we`re really seeking is an experience of being alive ,so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonance within our innermost being and reality, so that we can actually feel the rapture of being alive." Joseph Campbell.