There are times where I feel the call of the forest - to feel it, a kind of bathing in its essence(s); its shuffling leaves, pine and earthy smells, its wind's soft spoken language.
It is not any of those in particular, but all of them together that envelopes my being with surrendering feelings.
"To understand is to stand under".
No surrender, no understanding.
Hours flash by in moments of shedding what I consider "me" and I come to my senses laying down in a bed of pine needles.
What a trip.
where does sound go after it's heard?