On Hiking: An Aubade

To breathe in the fresh forest air. To soak in the early morning sunlight. To feel the dew trace across my socked feet as I wander through the woods.

To hear the birds sing and the frogs chirp and the insects hum.

To know that there is more outside my body than in my head and yet more inside my body than the entire world.

To see the sky change colors while clouds gently float passed, tugged by some invisible string.

To remember that there is peace outside me and peace within me.

To feel what I am connected to and to connect to what I feel. To breathe in so deeply I feel it stir within me, lift my lungs and my heart and my belly. To feel my muscles ache within me and know I am blessed to move.

To know I am capable of so much more than I think I am.

To remember I am not above this world but of it, made of the same atoms of stars and connected to the universe in my mind. To see what I cannot explain and can only accept. To know that I may never know, and to make peace with it.

To observe the changes that happen regardless of me; to watch the world turn and the stars by pass. To feel the warmth kiss my skin and the breeze prick my hairs.

To remember that I am not in control but that does not mean I have no control.

To work, to push, to sweat, to pant, to gasp for the air forcing its way through my tired lungs and feel what it is to be alive in this moment. To reside within only the present moment because the past is no help and the future is not different. To know that everything is temporary but time is subjective to experience.

To force myself to move, really move, push past plateaus and stagnations and through the hurt and the ache.

To watch the dappled sunlight dance through the tree branches as the world slowly wakes. To hear the wind in the leaves overhead and the birds landing on the ground.

For silence. For white noise. For quiet. For peace. For agony.

To sit with it, in it, and be it. To know this feeling will not kill me even though it feels like it might.

To feel the things I do not wish to feel. To turn the mirror inwards and ask what I see. To find release.

To capture something new and something old. To return to that familiar feeling in my cells, my bones, my soul. To feel resilience and awe and anger and frustration and accomplishment and exhaustion.

 To reset. To find my footing.

To breathe easier.

To be utterly alone and know that I am never alone.

To see the world through a new lens that is actually an old one. To connect to my roots and find how deep they run.

To seek. To connect. To listen.

Published by Jessica Reilly, Writer

Writer, cannabis aficionado, and poetry lover

Leave a Reply