A Place That Is Watching You

Did you ever walk through a place and feel that it was watching you?

Like in the woods where you walk at the foot of tall trees, far out of reach above. And if you are really lucky, you come upon a sea of green moss, furry and emerald green, tinting everything it lays upon. Or you come upon a patch of bluebells covering the forest floor – just happening to be there.

Or the wild rose that grows, creeping across the shrubs and around the trees, planted by an angelic force, like a squirrel who knew its part to play in creating a forest by carrying a seed to a certain place. Or perhaps the wind that lifted the seed from far away and placed it here.

That’s why it seems to be watching – because the woods came to be all by itself. How did that bluebell colony start? What divine spark set the first of them there? And now it lives on, all by itself, untended, yet vibrant and lush. How can earth not be conscious to create such a wonder as the woods.

The woods, where the silence is so inviting, as if made specifically for peace and quiet – with a kind of haunting presence, emotionally chanting: I’m alive, alive, alive.