My Familiar Place

A particularly hard week begged me to come to my familiar place.  The place where miles and miles of the land hold my soul tenderly and where the trees know the secrets of my heart.

I chose today to return to this sacred place where I have walked hundreds of times; sometimes crying, sometimes laughing and yet most of the time in solitude.  This is place where I go to listen.

As I walked, I felt as though I was rising out of the valley that I have been residing in to enjoy a deep, long breath of rich air.  I stood atop the fields and embraced the morning sun.  I let the trees take my sorrow and I walked with a mission to clear my head. The familiar trails were held snuggly by overgrown scrub oak as if to assure me that I too am comforted by nature.

I come here to listen.  The voices of my past linger and the stillness of my knowing show up.



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