I thought I had left the misty rains behind in the Pacific Northwest, but they were perfectly welcomed. They rolled in a precious silence and solitude to the trails this morning.
The quenched leaves of trees were so vibrant, their greens became as loud as their shouts to surrender thoughts for appreciation. Rabbit footprints in the sandy mud saved water for no one in particular, and rocks glistened a pearl blue to hint what the sky might be behind grayness.
My glasses kept fogging up as I walked, so I had to remove them. And then, everything was blurry. The browns, reds and tans of the ground blurred into the greens of the vegetation. The mountains blurred into the sky. The birdsong blurred into the silence. Everythingness blurred into Love.
When appreciation is for everything, without boundaries, there is no appreciator. All that remains is a wave of self-recognition propagating divine consciousness. All of us are those waves when we are truly silent; not the silence of just a stilled mind, but the silence of a mind holding nothing, no thought nor identity.
Luckily, this near-sighted wave of appreciation was able to make its way back down the trail without tripping.