I heard the sound of a rushing creek - the flow, pound and patter of water, rock and soil, the pull of gravity, the shape of the valley forming, bouncing, echoing its song.
I heard a symphony of frogs - thronging and peeping.
I heard a chorus of birds - the explosive trumpet of the Pileated Woodpecker, the sweet sweet melody of courting Louisiana Waterthrush, the rhythmic trill of Warblers, the occasional gobble of a Wild Turkey, the chatter of Chickadees, the chirping Titmice, the bright notes of Cardinal’s song, the harsh cawing of a band of Crows.
I heard this chorus, set upon the rhythm of water, of my own heart beating
and nearby footfalls in the leaves - heavy, slow, rapid, sporadic jumps, steps, trots and scampers,
All enfolded in the sweet stringed whisper of leaves in the wind - the hiss of white pine needles and mountain laurel touching the morning breeze.
Even the lichen on the bark of the trees was heard - in the way sound brushed, curved and bounced from it.
I heard the dampness of the morning mist catching each note and sending it reverberating through the forest.
I heard the sunshine lifting water from the forest floor, brightening song as its flares stretched across the valley, lighting up each leaf, each tree, each cove,
as waves of voices rose and fell, each differentiated to fill their particular niches,
each reverberating in relationship to all of the others, and together singing the dynamic harmony of the land.
This great harmony holds us, ties us to one another in infinite energetic flows. By listening, I open a doorway into the heart of the world. By sharing my voice with conscientiousness, with awareness and care for my impacts on the song of the whole, I fall in fully, I bless these many voices, and together we create something truly miraculous.