The plants are growing rapidly around us. On our walk yesterday, the grasses and milk thistle soared reaching for the shimmering sun and blue sky above in the open space near the park. Crossing the corner, heading back to the neighborhood, PG & E workers blocked off the road, the new development is rapidly growing as well eating up the pasture land and filling up space covering the sunlit valley.
I yearn to go camping and get away from the busyness returning, but right now there is nowhere to go. Restrictions are still in place. The beaches are still closed. The parks are open, but we can't picnic or linger. The virus is here, like a hot menacing breath on the back of one's neck, but it has not taken me down or anyone I know that is close to me. I am selfish in my desire to pretend it is not a threat and go on with my life, but I stop myself.
This is a time of reflection. a time to pause, a time to save one's resources. Or to simplify to prepare for the future.
Looking to nature, the animals and plants only take what is needed, leaving the rest to others. They are free in not carrying burdens of past or future or hoarding too much that can hinder or weigh one down. It is a sharing economy. Remembering the coyote who paused on the coastal trail, and looked back at us. I felt his aliveness, his pure presence, his power and intensity as he looked through us, possibly reading our intentions or already knowing that we meant no harm. I wonder how it must feel to not be haunted by ghosts and misdeeds. To be free in the moment not worrying about the future. To not have to prove oneself to others, to not have to be recognized or appreciated.
To live and be completely pure in your mind, body and spirit as you are.