I always find my self running through the woods and trails, I'm a total addict for it. Meditation in motion, is what it is. Immersed in the scents and sounds of nature, intoxicating. Drinking in the fragrance of wet earth as the sun beats down on my shoulders, divine. To say I find my heart out in the sacred space nature provides might sound trite, but that's what I do.
Then one day, it happened, literally. Running with a happy heart, I saw a green one right in the mud. It was really a deer hoofprint, of course, that somehow had a particular kind of moss growing in it. I am sure the conditions were just the right and perfect mix for this heart to grow and develop, and it lasted for a brief time. The mud was a canvas painted in complimentary colors, impasto strokes in green of my human, deer, and Luke's dog tracks. I was immediately struck by its perfect simplicity, its childlike innocence. There was even a tiny flower sprung by its side, punctuating its rare existence. As if I could run past without stopping for a closer look.
Since our runs, planting happy tracks in the sticky red mud alongside green hearts, my heart has felt loss. And with a different dog by my side... I'm still looking for hearts.
9 hours ago