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Talking to the Spirits
By Charlene Langfur
Always, I think this will be more of a balancing act than it is —
staying simple in the air and wind, taking in the first snow
of the year, what covers the mountains in the distance. I always
call this a new start. Trying to learn what I don’t know by tracking
what I already do, in a steady way, the only way I know to be.
I sit as quietly as possible and breathe in deep. Nearby,
a hummingbird collects pollen from one winter flower after
another one. The white tailed rabbits race away over the hills
of sand. The crows in the sycamore survey it all--this is exactly
what they do best. Overhead, the half moon is clear in the blue sky.
I am listening in on life exactly where I am, walking about, staying
put. All the words I’ve learned in my life bring me to places
I already knew. The wrens in the bushes burrow deep against the cold.
The season changes and I have to change with it like everything else
around me. I’m walking and listening and sitting and breathing deep.
In the beginning, I thought there was more to it than this.
But now I know this is how to move forward in life, watching
the wild crows and the roadrunner collecting twigs. All of us
taking to the world around us, slowly and patiently, easing on.