I’m sitting on a rock, watching the little stream, losing myself in the patterns the early morning sun paints onto the rippled surface.

I’m listening to the birds. I sit still, so they come really close; their antics are delightful. I feel a tickle on my bare arm – an ant. I watch it. It slowly continues down my arm and vanishes in the grass.

There has been some rain during the night, so the ground is still wet. I can feel the wet through my pants, but I don’t care. It will be a hot day, but for now, I enjoy the cool of the morning. I could sit here forever, become one with the water and the rock and the grass and the trees and the birds.

I am quiet; the thoughts come and go, and I’m open and vulnerable to all the emotions. I let them in, and some seem strange. I have no name for them. They are good and sad, and confusing, and embarrassing at the same time, and I can’t help but trying to understand. I want to study them, to analyze them, to dissect them.

And then there is nature, and as I sit there and sink into the space around me, I want to be like it. It just is. No judgement, no questioning, no doubts. Being part of nature, can’t I just accept my feelings for what they are - without giving them a name? No analysis, no decision. There is no wrong or right with emotions. No suppressing, no regretting.

I listen to the sounds surrounding me and I realize that I need to listen to the voice inside me with the same curiosity and care and kindness. I need to savor the good in these feelings, not letting doubt and fear eat away at them. I need to live in the moment, nurturing the spark, cherishing it as the lonely flame it might be. Conscious and aware – and grateful

I sit until the sun is high up and the cool air has turned into a warm breeze. Soon it will be hot. The birds are taking dips in the water, and a lizard bathes in the sun. I still watch, and I still listen, and I still don't know if I am happy or sad or maybe something totally different.