Virgo: wisdom, garnered in the fields of experience

I am not a big fan of birthdays, either because I frequently forget those of the ones I love or because I dislike the inordinate amount of attention it brings to me one day out of every year.

Today, I sat in some small amount of dejection before the computer, said to Jos I was having a hard time escaping. He responded, "That's because the computer is negative energy." This, soon after Joe suggested I flee to the woods. So the boy and I fled into the arms of grasshoppers and apple trees, shared river logs with garter snakes and the path with something Jos called a mole and likened to a Bidoof in Pokemon, and which I can only guess was a woodchuck or beaver.  We fled into the living peace I needed and few understand better than Mary Oliver.

For you, Ame, and anyone else that can't flee in this moment:

When I Am Among the Trees

by Mary Oliver

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

  but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, "Stay awhile."

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,

"and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine."

Happy Birthday.