Being With

This weekend - a long one thanks to the Veterans Day holiday - I spent about an hour each day in the early afternoon sitting alongside Sligo Creek.  I have no particular purpose other than to just be with that place, and to experience what occurs while I am there.

The rushing sound of water flowing down the creek, pooling next to my boulder and then pouring over a log and between two rocks perhaps 18 inches apart, is constant.  It is there when I arrive and when I leave, and I'm sure it continues the other 23 hours of the day.  This time of year the water is crystal clear.

Other energies come and go.  Warm, bright sunlight.  A breeze or strong gust of wind.   Animals scurrying around or passing by.  Children playing across the bank at the playground.  Runners, walkers and cyclists passing on the trails.

I sit, breathe, watch, then close my eyes and listen.  Sounds. The murmur of the falling water, a hiss from wind rushing through the high tree branches, the creak of tree branches rubbing together, the rustle of blowing leaves - or something moving in the leaves.

Opening my eyes, I see a gray squirrel moving toward me along the bank.  It disappears from my sight then suddenly pops up atop the boulder by the little waterfall before me.  Seeing me, it stops, hesitates, then scampers up the bank into some shrubs.   I hadn't moved at all, except perhaps to blink, but it was clear that I was recognized as not part of the natural landscape.

A small piece of bark fell on my leg.  I heard a tapping sound, and looked up to see a flicker digging at the sycamore bark about 20 feet above me.

Today, bright sun throughout the morning was gone, hidden behind a layer of cloud, by the time I arrived by the creek.  It was cooler than I had expected, and the scene was much quieter than the day before - bright sparkles and dark shadows replaced with a flat gray light.  As the end of my time approached, the clouds moved through and the sunlight once again could flood through the trees and onto the water and the rock where I sat.

Before rising to head home, I sat for twenty breaths, focusing my attention on the sunlight sparkling off the ripples of the fast current running through the center of the pool.  Being with.