Sweet Freedom

There's a sweet freedom in the air this morning, warm and lucious from the dewy treetops. The green rolls out in layers of shade, touching the sky as clouds seem to be inhaled from mysterious mountain-sides, and broccoli-textured trees illuminate in the early hue.

I want to reach out and touch the leaves. I want to feel the bend of tapered pines as I move my hand across and the spongy lumps under my palms of the distant trees. A hummingbird flickers and flies across my field of view, making it so easy to believe. I fell in love a while ago, not with a person or a project or a dream, but with the natural world itself. In this tucked away jungle, immersed in the real shades of green, everything feels renewed. There's an excitement and a peace, a kind of joyous energy that is so vast, so present, and so personal that it sweeps all trivial nuisances away.

When I write about nature, I'm writing about myself. When I write about nature, I'm also writing about my cat. Pen to page, blossomed branch to sky, this is what life is about. It's about stripping away the complications and renewing the simplicity. It's about rediscovering the rich life hidden between the wild grass. It's about the fireflies.

Can you reach your mind out and fly with the blinking light? Can you sink back in awe as the tiny floating lanterns twinkle an evening's forest magical? Or are you missing it all, because you're too busy fighting and concerning yourself with impermanent things?

Ah, a layer of heaviness coats my eyes. I have no regrets, as uncovering and revealing certain societal truths was indeed part of my path----I couldn't avoid it----but now, I will never forget what it means and how it feels to be alive again.

I breathe in the green, still slightly moist with the morning dew. The scent is quenching as it dampens thirsty cells satisfied and opens my heart up to the bigger picture. This life is beautiful. I have a feeling I'm just as miraculous as the fireflies glittering the touchable breeze, and I know my cat feels the same. We raised ourselves through healing. We renewed our natural love for the world and it was easy because fear and neglect toward it was never our burden to carry.

I breathe again as a puff of pollen floats across the sky. The gentle wind tickles me now as the sun begins to warm the grass. This adventure is a gift. I almost cry because I'm not the only one who sees it this way. Had I stayed small, had I remained busy and in the middle, stuck and safe, I never would have discovered freedom. The same is true for my cat.

The memories we share are meaningful. Not superficial and plastic, but real. That first night my cat and I slept outside of our not-yet-ready van, I promised her I would make anywhere and everywhere home. No matter what, we would survive, thrive, nourish ourselves, and have fun. I strung up a tiny battery-powered string of lights along the loops at the top of our tent, and together, we watched as those lights transformed over miles of terrain into stars, illuminated wings, and fireflies along the way.

Whole with this magic, full in this freedom, my cat explores the overgrown grass now in the yard below. We both used to fear each other going outside, afraid of losing one another to the wickedness of humanity, but as an eagle flies overhead, circling as I write, it's obvious to nature that she and I are bonded. We always were and always will be.

I bless the day nature drew us out. I bless the day nature called me back. I bless the journey for coloring our hearts green and for spotting her chest with the mark of a leader, illuminating the strength within. Shining a light on what really matters.