Surely the most spiritual experience I am fortunate enough to participate in regularly is done from the chair in which I am writing this. I have positioned my computer station in a corner of my living room with myself next to a window from which I have removed the screen. I open the window fully and hike up the blinds during the day, and sometimes at night. From my favorite spot I watch as the shadows and colors in the yard change with the turning of the planet, and the atmospheric conditions. I listen to the wind and the sounds of birds and neighbors. I watch as rabbits forage, and play, chasing and jumping with each other. I see the birds that come to visit and loiter or pick at seeds and bath themselves in the sand. I watch lizards scurry from one bush to another, sometimes pausing to soak in the sun. I witness the adult quail leisurely leading their procession of almost intolerably cute chicks across the desert plane. Sometimes the smell of Sonoran flowers glides in through the window. The road runner inspects things and poses its tail and head plume with snake like precision. My old dog Solstice hangs off the edge of the porch taking in the beauty as well, occasionally coming to my window to check in, give a smile, and get a little affection. The critters don't mind her, or each other for that matter. They casually pass each other on their way to wherever they are going. A pigeon who allowed me to take some blurry close up pictures of it nested about ten yards from my window, but has now moved on. The humming bird who licks at the nectar of the desert flowers I wonder at has nested at the place where my porch swing chain meets the porch roof. I can walk over to my kitchen window for a close up view of its child and watch as the adult regurgitates nutrition and injects it with a tongue  which appears to be as long as its body. The humming bird hovers outside my window and chirps while it looks at me. They have been using that same small nest for years now. I wonder if they are the same descendants of the original creators? Some large paper wasps have built a small hive just above my front door. They don't seem to be irritated by my walking past, though they may become more aggressive as their larvae approach maturity. Little moths and bugs unknown to me flutter in and sometimes land on my hands and arms giving me a brief close look at their intricate bodies. Spiders come and go. Ants steadily clean up the little things I am not thorough enough to  do myself. Flies buzz and tickle my skin and I shoo them off hardly perturbed. I am calm, relaxed, and in love.


Blessings,


C.W. Arvidson