It is Tuesday. My village chores are done. I've left Cheyenne blissfully engaged in experimenting with dyes for her basket weaving, a project she quite mysteriously wants to keep from my eyes.
It is one of those gorgeous July afternoons when the sun is hot and the breezes cool, in our ripple of hills a few miles from the sea.
Earlier, I packed a lunch, grabbed a gourd for dipping water, and a couple of pails for picking late raspberries and anything else I could find along the trail.
The pails could carry more, but I gorged myself on the way. I'm sure if I had a mirror, I would see lips stained purple as my hands, for I found early blackberries in the brambles.
I'm deliciously full and sticky, lying here on the grass beside the stream, my hat over my face, filtering just enough of the sun. I've dozed off and on for long lazy minutes.
Occasionally, I hear the munch, munch, munch of the deer savoring the more tender grasses at the edge of the wood, the quick click-click of dragonflies darting here and there, the meadowlark trilling.
The earth is firm and slightly undulating under me, the soil and sod uneven. Somehow, my plump body has found the right places to dip and swell with the Earth, and I am quite comfortable.
The air is fragrant with berry juice, my own sweat, and musky and sweet whiffs of scents on the breeze--moist clay from the stream bank, pine bark resin warmed by the sun, a strong-scented flower I should recognize. Mother would know!
Butterflies and dragonflies flit about, hovering just above the pails long enough for me to get a good look. I have not seen this bronze colored dragonfly before.
Soon I'll rise and dip my dusty feet in the cool stream, take a drink of the fresh, pure water, rinse the berry juice from my hands. Soon. Now, I laze under the wide blue roof of the sky, breathing.
Breathing.
Breathing.
I give thanks for this glorious day, for the peaceful pleasures that are mine, for the peace in all our lives.
I give thanks for these berries, ripe and sweet and bountiful.
I give thanks for the hush in the air, so still I can hear the deer chew fifty yards away.
I give thanks for the creatures, large and small, who trust me as I trust them, knowing we will not harm the other.
I give thanks for the abundance in my life.
May all beings be free from suffering.
May all beings desire peace.
May all beings experience joy.
May all beings be glad of heart.
Namaste.
