Two New Friends

I love to write about nature and our relationship with nature. This is part of a series that included "an old friend" and our experiences. Part of a 500 words a day challenge. Enjoy

We stumble along the bushy path, an old friend and I. Our feet pressing into the soft, cool earth. Walking barefoot in nature is true freedom. The soles of our feet, softened by the dilution of modern comforts feel every sharp stick, the edge of every small rock poking and prodding at flesh. We walk down the narrow path, barely visible in this untamed jungle. Arms outstretched to keep our balance, head bowed to check the drop of every footstep, rocking merrily through the jungle. We clumsily dance around the ribbons of light filtering through the canopy.

Outside the tree line, the midday sun scorches bare skin, forcing tightly squinting eyes to battle between blinding glare and the stinging of sweat, dripping down furrowed brows. Below the treeline, eyes are wide open. The canopy opens its arms to shelter those below it. The sun is cooled, the glare is made less harsh by massive umbrellas of leaves and branches. The air is thick and moist, dense with energy. The forest buzzes with life. Vibrating with purity.

We are drawn to the sound of water, the old friend and I. A river laughing in the distance. Clapping merrily as it sweeps down the shallow hillside. It calls us closer, the promise of cool water and a place to wash our face and feet.

"Silk cotton" my old friend remarks. I nod in agreement. Two majestic guardians stand before us. Reaching towards the sky, bursting through the canopies like antennas for spiritual energy. Pulsing radiant beauty to the world. “How does this exist?” we catch ourselves thinking. “How can such magnificence be contained in the space? By this scene?” but who are we to question this. Who are we to look upon this breath-taking beauty and question its existence?

We sit now, two old friends, with two new friends and we bask in the radiance of the moment. This place, built by beautiful coincidence; the glory of random happenings. The small trickle of water that found its way down the side of a shallow hill, that grew into a stream, that gave life to the bounty that runs along its banks. The tiny seeds that fell so perfectly, as if placed along the banks of this stream. Seeds that grew into majestic trees, whose’ massive roots spread like fingers across the forest. 

These guardians of the forest we sit before who have stood here in this place, watching man and beast and sun and storm. Who have watched as we danced clumsily through their forest. Who stretch their arms to shield our faces from the blinding sun. These guardians of the forest, they sing. They sing to us as we sit here, two old friends, with two new friends. Their song carries the voices of hundreds of years of day and night, the laughter of a million miles of water, the dancing of ribbons of golden sunlight. We sit with them and sing along, vibrating radiant energy.

Aren't we lucky we think. Our hearts dance with the sunlight. Our souls laughing with the river.

Author's Note

I tend to write the way I would tell a story, so I apologize if some of the grammar is a bit wonky. For anyone that does read, when you're through, take a moment, close your eyes take a deep breath and try to visualize the scene and feel the energy that I felt sitting in the shadows of those majestic trees.