I seem to be blinded by the intense light as it emanates from the Sun through the trees. It is so blinding that it is all I can see at the moment. Yet as I continue to blink and focus, it begins to become less opaque and more translucent. I can see again, and recognize that I am still sitting inside of the light.

Well, at least my consciousness is because looking at my body or hands or feet yields no such thing. Just soft moss with some fungi growing out of the two bisecting limbs high up in the tree.

The last thing that I remember of my body was where I left it on the fecund soil in meditation breathing in the clean air from the grove of redwoods. I wanted to find peace and quiet from the crazy frenetic energy of the city. I was right in the middle of grounding when my mind’s eye decided to grow as tall as the other trees so I could know what the consciousness of a tree would feel like. I am pretty sure that I am sitting up high on the tree that I planted long ago, because it is a little bowed in the center from the heaviness that was in my heart and years spent in grief and anguish for reasons that have long been forgotten, but indeed forgiven.

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