Songs of the bird people

10 Dec

Went hiking with my good buddy this past weekend at the beautiful Little Si in North Bend.

It was windy and the trees were dancing and singing with the breeze. I thought about all the stories it was telling in the rustle of leaves and pine needles. Every atom in this forest and in me have existed for eons, what stories do they have to tell? I think I can only hear them when I silence my mind, but I am still working on that.

I like to think about the people who walked this land many decades ago, that loved this place so.I like to close my eyes and imagine I am there in that time when I smell the pine and the decomposing wood and the sweet breeze and the faint hint of a camp fire. I hope their spirits know that I love this land too.

Inuit throat singing, this give me chills:

 

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