It’s early Sunday morning and I lie in bed listening to the sound of the wind whispering through the tall trees my home is surrounded by. I pull up the blind so I can watch the trees sway back and forth, open the window and lie back down, watching, listening, and breathing. I am now at one with nature.
The birds too are awake and at one with nature.
On this early Sunday morning echoing throughout my neighbourhood is the loud, squawking of the sulfur-crested cockatoos, the raucous laughter of too large a family of kookaburras, which incidentally have been up and at ‘em since 4am if not cackling with evil laughter, attacking my windows with their sledge hammer beaks (okay maybe stout beak is a better description). Not to be outdone, the crows are cawing while a little over there, the distinct woop woop woop of the neighbourhood pheasant coucals can be heard. For background harmonies, the pigeons are gently cooing, and goodness what sub-species of avialae are merrily twittering, trilling, and chirping away.
I am indeed blessed with the knowledge that my neighbourhood is alive and well; the only quiet inhabitants being my fellow human neighbours.
After an hour of listening and attempting to grasp bird-speak, I get up, have a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast and head out to a different place where I can be at one with nature, where the only sound I hear is a distant seagull, gentle waves lapping on the sand, and the low hum of a boat engine.
When I am at one with nature, I really feel alive 😉