Singing With the Trees

Yesterday afternoon, in between clients, I took a brisk walk along the pond by the office complex where I work.  The fading light in late afternoon fell gently against the water and trees’ leaves, many now starting to change.  I felt autumn in the breeze, a coolness matching the dimmer sunlight compared to last month’s.  Soon, it would be Mabon, fall equinox, when the day is equal to the night, on the planet’s way to the increasing pull of darkness, angled more away from the sun.  I reveled in these mild moments of September, my favorite month here in Massachusetts.  I did something I haven’t done in a good while; I broke into song:

  I am a circle within a circle, with no beginning and never ending. (Sung 3x)                      You are a circle within a circle, with no beginning and never ending. (Sung 3x)
 We are a circle within a circle, with no beginning and never ending. (Sung 3x)
 This is a circle within a circle, with no beginning and never ending. (Sung 3x)

I felt my energy build as I sang.  My voice grew louder, more confident, quickly softening as I happened to come near another person walking or sitting in their parked car, then rising in volume again as I moved further away.  I soon saw circles everywhere: nearby ripples in the pond, the holes dug for certain trees for them to safely grown within, the arch of the sky to the earth (a part of such a great circle).  With the vibration of my voice and the wind rustling in the leaf-filled branches above me, I felt my chest expand.  I offered the song to the trees and felt joy surging through me as I took in their togetherness, branches intermingling.  The ground beneath their trunks and my feet sloped gracefully upward on the left of the asphalt path.

I started the chant all over again, my eyes taking in the pond on my right, the trees all around, the lightly clouded sky overhead.  This was it, everything before me, here and now, everything connected, including unseen people, places, and things far and wide.  My mind flashed on past moments:  how I’d drawn a flower growing from a human heart back in 5th grade (and whatever happened to that picture?); when I had walked on other trails in woods or mountains; when I had last seen a friend for lunch and looked forward to seeing her again soon; when I had recently sung a select portion of this chant with a client, who I would be seeing tomorrow.  I felt joy and relief in the openness of my heart then and there, relief that this was continuing to happen and not a brief “phase” or simply a giddy mood in response to some great news.  No agenda, just openness.

And then I walked past a woman carrying a cloth bag written on it:  “Warm hearted.”

“Nice bag,” I stated, smiling.  “Thanks,” she replied, returning her attention to the cell phone in her hand.

I finished the song, letting the words flow through my mind, course through me.  Then, I hummed a partial tune to some rock song I’d long forgotten the title of or who originally sang it.

I approached the building where my office is, feeling refreshed and energized, curious and excited about my next client and whatever he would be bringing in to work on that day.




2 thoughts on “Singing With the Trees

  1. What beautiful moments you experienced beneath the trees by the pond. Thank you for sharing. It’s a lovely reality that when we take a bit of reflective time, and open up our minds and hearts, our awareness of connections and resonances and syntheses everywhere illuminates. Maybe we all ought to sing more!

    Liked by 1 person

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