Bewildered by many voices, tugging and pushing, confused by choices and tempting dreams. I have come to this wild place to find my way.
I walk first down to the river, and squat on the bank, looking out. A grey bird, broad-winged and silent, glides upstream over the water. The river bubbles and swirls. Leaves, and sometimes whole branches, float by on their way down stream to the sea or, more likely, to be left stranded on the bank. Distant laughter reaches me, and then comes closer, and families in canoes, with small children, come into view. The children wave as they pass by, and I wave back. Not so wilderness after all, I think.
After a while I return to my camp and sit, silent and still among the trees. The birds sing and go about their business, and squirrels are busy too, collecting food and chattering amongst themselves. The trees around me rustle in the breeze and watch patiently, smiling. Later in the night, the stars shine so brightly. ‘You can be who you want to be’, sings the sky. ‘A-we, A-we, by and by’ is my reply. ‘there will be a time to fly’.
For now I am here, on this patch. My roots spread wide and deep drawing strength from the earth, so I am anchored and stable. My leaves unfold in the warm sun, breathe and sing. And branches I have grown to shelter those who come. And Oh, the glory of my flowers in spring, followed by sweet fruits to feast on. Seeds blow in the wind to far and wide, and are carried by birds to some fertile place to start new life.
I am fed by small streams and rain.
At winters dawn, my leaves fall to feed the earth below, crawling creatures nestle in my roots to make their home, and all is still. It is the dreaming time.
The time to brave wild winds and stormy seas. I will go down to the shore and dance, cry out to the wild tempest, and laugh in the face of the wind. Raising my song to join the throng of voices encircling the world, the call for peace and justice that will at last be heard.
Truly, there are no boundaries.