We ask to enter. They receive. The Forest.

Her aphrodisiac the incense of pines, moss, bees, a thousand flowers and green leaves all singing a special initiation to every fiber and every cell. The forest has welcomed us. We are seduced. Willingly. Wantingly.

Thus initiated he comes alive, so beautiful in his natural environment. He seems to just merge with the trees and the whispers. He needs no special rituals, no permissions. The forest loves him. She takes time away from him and gives him something else back. Something he needs more.

The shriek from the buzzard above interrupts my thoughtflow.. or stops me from getitng lost in it? This is my call of the wild, above as always she hovers above me.. Reminding me, she's my guide, I'm not her prey and her cry talks to something deep in me.

The heat in the sun, then the chill under the trees. A let-go-leap from the top of that hill generates the high speed down. Exhilarating. Scary. Comfort zones and control. When did we stop playing? When did we start fearing getting hurt? It’s the bumps in the road that makes you focus harder on maintaining balance. If you fall, you hurt yourself. It’s that simple. You get back up. Try again. It's when you stay down or stop trying, you die..

There are so many parallels at play here. Here we are, alive, in lOve, outside on the inside, constantly being born onto this experience, emanant. Constantly dying a million little deaths means simultaneously being born a million times. And everytime I dare to die the little death, when I open my eyes again, he is still there, in lOve with me. This cannot die. lOve can't die.

The noticing of the contradictive in life. Dissolving them, life is whole. Holy. Spotting that a crisis holds a thousand treasures, options, doors, paths that all, at any time you stay with it long enough will lead to lOve. Return to joy. Like that, crises are holy. Joy is holy. It’s life in motion. In our journeys towards a goal, intent on arriving, impatient with getting were we imagined we should be, we lose the notion that the journey is the adventure.

Out here it all makes sense. In the forest by watching a flower unfold, a leaf falling, a lost deer along the tracks. At the sea by watching a 100 waves rise, rise, rise, rise.. roll, roll, roll, only to crash at the shore and being pulled helplessly back to the Ocean. Back again. Swimming in it, we feel it. A little bit of that force. It feels strangely good to surrender to that pull. Floating. Or being carried?

The blue is salty and fills the nose with life. The water is freezing, but awakens the body, now hearing the sOul inside that had fallen somewhat asleep.

Within the sOul now talking loud and humming along to this song of songs, an image is forming, a presence, of space cocooning the Earth at night. In the rays of starlight, a bug flaps her silver wings. The world far from quiet. Full of tiny noises. The bigger picture is found in the fraction of the smallest of things, once you begin to observe and see. Hear instead of listening. Live under the Sun by day, under the Moon in whatever phase by night, under the stars, dancing to the sound of the planets and their colors, their hum, their pull, their push, their call.

That something natural awakens when connecting to those places where crises are apparent and not held down, where life is emanant.

Where time is taken away from you. But you are given something else back. Something you need more.