Where I Am

Posted: August 4, 2011 in Uncategorized

I know that the desert creeps into your body through secret passageways, so much so that the human creatures where I am are naturally quiet. Doors are closed gently and televisions sit unused. There is the gurgling sound of some low voices in conversation, in some other parts of the campo, but not often. And in the morning, around the fountain, or by the wall, or in the row of gnarly trees, the non-human creatures come out and do what they do. They chew and drink, listen and sun, and keep one wary eye out for predators. Evidently I am not considered one of those, not a threat, because I am mostly ignored. I am seen by them, I suppose,  like another piece of furniture, or a big rock or shrub. The rabbit creeps up to me and munches on clover under the chair. The birds are so close that I can see their gullets wiggle as they swallow their morning drink.

Am I invisible to them, like a ghost who sees but is not seen? Or do they know, do they see me as I sit, read, think, pray,  but choose to leave me alone? If I stayed like this for two, three years, would they build a nest on my left shoulder?


Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.

There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places.

Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came

(Wendell Berry, Given)

  1. Lee says:

    May we always cherish those sacred spaces for rest, renewal, spiritual solace.

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