A Meditative State in Just Being

6:27 am. I open my eyes just enough to see the morning hues slithering themselves through the side of the slightly drawn curtain. Mmmmm. Should I or should I rather not? I look over to my left and see my two year old sun kissed prince is fast asleep, so, I might as well.

Late nights, spent dreaming about possible projects for my mind, my body and my soul have taken a toll on me, I wake up feeling foggy and out of breath, a feeling I don't agree with very well. So why not lay here a little longer, doze off into a light little slumber. But my ears attune to the early bright sounds that tell an irresistible tale and like magic, starts to lure my limbs to motion. An ensemble of birdsong makes its way through the pair of double windows that are on the wall facing me, just above the bottom of my bed as well to the left. I've always quite disliked the dampening effect that twin-paneled windows have on the finer, subtler sounds nature has to offer but must say when the long, cold winter months creep their way into the rolling hills and valleys surrounding the small village I live in, I am quite content with their presence. And anyway, during the last two and a half years since I moved to the countryside, , my hearing has become sharper, taking in with sheer delight, the rich and colorful array of Mother Nature's melodies.

With my eyes still closed but now fully awake I listen, and breathe. I smile to myself in delight. Weaving it's way through the fabric of frequency, a particular sound comes alive accompanied and enhanced by the tweedle of our winged friends, a sound that makes its self felt just beneath my skin, a soft hum that embraces my entire body. Rainfall. It lifts me out of bed and straight to the door of our bedroom which leads out onto the veranda running down this entire length of the house.

I swing the door open, a gust of wind bellows it's way in whilst doing a Marilyn Monroe dress-lift number with my nightgown. My long, cascading locks, twirl around my body vivaciously and I can't help but break out in song. No! That's just my imagination running Hollywoodian wild. Do pardon me.

I walk quietly towards the chair where I have draped my wrap-around blouse, reaching gently for it, slipping it gracefully over my bare body, and with a swift and silent movement, open the door. I take a peek behind me, towards the bed, checking to see if I have disturbed my sleeping angel. He is sound asleep. I step out and take a deep breath in. I breathe in deep, filling my lungs, my chest, my entire being. These moments, these simple moments, I appreciate so profoundly. Every conscious breath I take, in the silent temple of nature, is a golden, twinkling trinket I plant in the treasure box of my soul, to light my way when denser, darker shades surround me.

The sun shows its self soon after. I absolutely adore the sunshine's tints just after it's rained. So much more vibrant, so much more alive and present, embracing and warm, it touches my every atom, permeating every layer of self.

I always look out for rainbows after rain has fallen, I see them quite often, even double rainbows, once even double and a bit. If not a rainbow then there's always the cloud spectacles to immerse oneself into, as they transcend into themselves, making way for a new story to begin.

As I draw my gaze inward, closer to home, I stop over and visit a leaf in the pear tree standing just a few centimeters away from our veranda. Now that the skies have cleared, only a few droplets are left hanging around and for a few fleeting moments they become an entire, infinite universe, each in their own individual selves, reflecting all and being all, light and shadow, form and formless. I imagine what it would be like to enter one such raindrop, how if I were the size of a quark, how vast the droplet would seem. And if it so strongly refracts the light, would that expand it's vastness even further? It's amazing how even the seemingly smallest of presences can open up entire worlds and possibilities, taking us into deep thought processes, taking us within, reflecting our own inner boundlessness.

With this thought, I am back to self, back within my own body. I yawn, stretching out my arms, reaching out, out, out, expanding myself so as to take in as much air, oxygen, breath, as I can encompass.

I thank the pear tree and all trees for making it possible for me to breathe and be alive. I breathe out what they breathe in, they breathe in what I breathe out and without this magical exchange, life would just cease to exist. It's that simple. I take a small bow of gratitude and with a slight spring in my step, twirl around and enter the reality within my home once again.

Ever since I moved out into the countryside I've been yearning for a way to capture nature's beauty in a time capsule of my own, express the symphony of emotions it makes me feel. But being a new mother, in a new, unfamiliar environment asked for most of my focus to be directed towards just being aware and conscious, observing more than creating. This was and still is a good practice, exactly what I needed, precisely what I had daydreamed about for many years whilst living in the concrete jungle, Bucharest, where I was born, with it's roaring sirens and visually loud embellished streets and nooks. My most frequent escapist vision was of lying down in the grass and being able to observe a leaf for hours on end, do nothing else but study it, vibrate with it, be it.

So here I was, doing just that, with my unborn son, flowering within me. Of course, after he was born, the many hours turned into a couple of hours and as he grew, the precious moments of just being, became less and less. However, it is remarkable to see how this practice of observation etched its self into his being. Now, nearly two years old while out on our walks, he will always pick up a blade of grass to study it, point out a flower, stop in his tracks, hold up his little finger signaling for us to stop and listen, to a bird, a cricket, running water, whatever it may be. We once sat for nearly an entire hour in a relaxed lotus position, his body rested within mine, his back against my belly, with his legs cradled inside my own. We sat on a deck overseeing a pond, watching sparrows skimming, playfully the surface of the water. We watched the fish swimming by, dragonflies hovering above the water lilies and the willows swaying lazily in the sweet smelling, summer breeze. We sat so still that we became a part of the landscape. Baptized in the beauty of just being.

Now I dream of being able to pour these nature inspired states of existence into a project I have been conjuring up. Tree Child, natural fibre, textile dolls, embroidered with botanical details inspired from my surroundings, my every day encounters. All I need is time, patience, practice and some financial support to purchase all the materials I need, most importantly a sewing machine.

As for the time being, I continue to submerse myself in the meditative state of being... a mother.