On an August afternoon, I sit on a patch of grass in the heart of a shadow shape cast on the ground from the noon day sun. It is the palm of a nameless dark hand, sheltering me from the searing sun. I sit, look, feel. Racing thoughts
I notice my vision separating a distant line of trees from the farther hills. then mountains. I lower my gaze to the grass. Hundreds or thousands of blades moving with indiscernible twitches, as if tread on by unseen feet. I look more and areas of light and dark emerge, enhancing the grass, separating, causing patterns to form and dissipate each moment. I split my attention between my body and what I see. I observe the effort it takes to do this.
The heat slithers up my back. The shadow
has moved. Aware, I slide back into my protector and continue sitting and looking, feeling. Heightened awareness, calm, and more thoughts of having to leave.
Walking back to my car, I sense what I am feeling and allow it its presence, trying not to diminish or push the feelings away, nor to artificially enhance