The butterflies flutter just within reach which is new. I take it as a sign I’ve become a familiar entity here. Maybe it’s the food slowly assimilating my cells to the same substance of the earth around me. Or maybe it’s my presence settling in this space.
The air is smooth and sweet — almost like vanilla, but not artificial or overpowering. It’s so gentle, it’s easily overlooked. I want to bask in it forever.
The guidebook I’m reading says if you ask the Balinese what Heaven is like, they’ll say it’s like Bali. I easily confer.
I wish black tea wasn’t caffeinated. I’d drink it all day.
I keep coming back to Colors of the Wind from Pocahontas this morning, such beautifully crafted lines ringing in my soul—
You think you own whatever land you land on. The earth is just a dead thing you can claim, but I know every rock and tree and creature has a life, has a spirit, has a name.
You think the only people who are people are the people who look and think like you, but if you walk the footsteps of a stranger you’ll learn things you never knew you never knew.
…
Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest. Come taste the sunsweet berries of the earth. Come roll in all the riches all around and for once never wonder what they’re worth.
…
We are all connected to each other in a circle, in a hoop that never ends — for whether we are white or copper-skinned.
…
You can own the earth and still all you’ll own is earth until you can paint with all the colors of the wind.
There’s not much I feel to add — the song speaks stronger than I can. I only add my wish like wind behind the words in prayer our world will listen deeply to the message there.
