Being

As I sit peacefully under the cool shade of a beautiful mesquite tree in the high desert of the Huachuca mountains, writing, reading and contemplating the joys, pains and mysteries of life, I watch and listen to the birds sing their beautiful melodic songs back and forth to each other. The bewick's wrens are trilling and buzzing around me, hidden in the trees. A Hutton's vireo lands in the mesquite tree above my head and sings a beautiful song. I'd like to believe he's signing to me, but that's not likely. Or is it? And so many others sing around me, mostly hidden in the trees.

Beautiful music to my ears but I wonder what they're saying? Are they just casually talking to each other? Are they talking to me? About me? Or oblivious of me? The cactus wrens and the Jays chatter chatter chatter away. Probably telling everyone there are intruders in their midst.

The music gives way to the chatter of people nearby, a family, hiking to the beautiful little spring which played its peaceful tune all night as I slept and continues all day. It's likely fed by the snow melt from the mountains above. The icy waters sting gently, playfully in the warm sun when its inviting waters convince you to step in.

Way up above the snow covered mountains, in the ever changing fluffy, white ,fast moving clouds, which intermittently obscure and then reveal the sun, two tiny dark figures soar and circle, oblivious to whatever's going on far down below. Soaring on the wind and playing with it. Oh how I wish I could go there with them. I'm there for a second.

I'm brought back quickly, down on earth, as across the field, at the edge of the trees, among the tall billowing yellow grasses, I spot the flickering ears of four white tailed deer. Standing stock still, Watching me as if to discern my intent. When I don't move towards them they decide I'm of no threat to them. They continue with their business of eating the grasses. In a while the babies lie down under the shade of a big tree. As the adults continue grazing, Ignoring me. They're at peace, as am I.

The cool breeze picks up and I must move from my shelter under the trees into the sun, to continue my reading and writing.

All around me there is life going on with its daily pursuits. So much life. Yellow, orange and black butterflies flit around the grasses, bees and flies buzz nearby. Ants and other little insects crawl around underfoot, gathering crumbs and other things they find to take back home.

The grass rustles and slightly opens to reveal a little desert mouse finding seeds and other tasty morsels, and staying undercover from larger animals that might think him a tasty morsel as well.

Whenever I wonder what my purpose in life is. Where do I fit in? This is it. Not just in this forest, on this mountain. But in being present and enjoying all the beauty around me. Whether I'm out in a beautiful forest or a cute little art filled town. Watching a breathtaking sunset.

Or the rain as it splashes against my windows. Visiting with my friends and family or among strangers around a campfire. It's about seeing life with fresh eyes and an open heart. Taking it all in and allowing myself to be transformed by it all. This is the act of living, the art of being.