Speak

What if the birds at my feeders could tell me about their speedy travels from bushes to trees. What if the doors on my closet could speak of the idle times between closing and opening. What if the maple tree rooted behind my home could speak of its many visitors it receives daily, speak of the exuberance of its budding leaves, speak of the loss of crisping foliage in the fall.

What if the ground could speak to me of the myriad web of roots, molds and insects that constantly stir its innards.

When I think of what these voices might be like if all the world around me could speak, I only think of sounds reaching out to my ears. I think mostly in terms of my ears perked to hear what is being said. I am slow to remember how everything around me sends out an awareness that I have only to “listen” to, to pay attention to.

If my mind is otherwise quiet, I can hear what it is for a tree to be solidly present in my back yard. If I listen with an open awareness, I can understand the marvels of flight those birds enjoy. When I truly relax my mind, I might be able to penetrate the ground as I walk on it and feel the aliveness the ground might otherwise conceal.

Everything around me proclaims its reality, its suchness. Everything speaks what it means for it to exist. Everything speaks the language of presence.

What if I could pay attention, truly see and hear what surrounds me. What if my awareness could absorb the speech of the world in which I find myself. What if I could learn the language of reality. What if I could hear the voice of everything just as it is.

I think I can. I think that is possible.