Walking Gratitude Practice

This is the season of hibernation and reflection here in Oregon. I am cultivating a gratitude practice on my walks in the neighborhood and around the Columbia Ecovillage where I live. This practice is part of my art and healing. How can things not go better when I acknowledge my relationship to the plants and landscape? This is not a new practice, it’s been going for several years, but it changes with the seasons.

Today the bare branches and muddy ground and dry fallen leaves offer a new opportunity to practice. Thank you. I am not only grateful for the huge trees that I come to, I'm grateful for the puddle there in the street reflecting the sky. I’m grateful for the texture of the crumbling, decomposing leaves under my feet. I'm grateful for my footsteps, padding on the soft grass beside the road. And the cold air I breathe, in and out. All are important, essential, beautiful. With few leaves left on the deciduous trees and bushes I notice the masses of spidery branches I pass. They remind me of pencil marks on a page. Energetic gestures. Yet they are here in front of me already completed and still growing and different every time I pass.

A few people join me on the streets. Dogs with their people, a bicyclist whipping by riding with no hands. I stop to gaze and marvel. The only time I could ride no hands was when I was twelve and I still remember the elation. A family wanders by on the other side of the street: 2 adults, one stroller, 2 small children, 2 dogs. Thank you for that, too.