Small fish in the water....... birds in the sky......the squirrel high up on the branch......or truck tires passing by....beyond the surface sounds and smells she lingers....in a world so close to him yet just a notch from his understanding....his awareness....as much as he tries.....he cannot concentrate enough to reach her world.
We slowly lose our instincts...our senses....our ability to read and track the passage of time and space....left with thoughts to carry us....and those thoughts so confused by the onslaught of unnecessary information. Can we block it all out and meld sound with smell?
Thought. What is it but a reaction to the emotions triggered by experiences that have been classified and amplified by childhood drama, trauma, and joy. Setting it all on a nearby rock.....careful not to let the current snatch it away (as therein rests the whole of him or so he has been taught) and meditating on simply the senses and their interaction with the immediate natural world, framed by the sound of the unrestrained river flow....he settles for a glimpse into the world that has been available since day one and has sliped from practice and habit.
Then she glances over at him....moves closer....and rests her muzzle on his knee. She appreciates the stillness and the attempt.
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