Not really alone

I was so sad last night and today, so I did what I've always done on these occasions.

I turned inside myself, looked backwards, and finally turned to the natural world, (as opposed to the unnatural one?) for comfort and understanding.

I see trees whose roots reach deep into the darkness, down into the heart of the earth where they draw sustenance and find a place to anchor themselves. And still, they lie here on the surface where children walk over them in games of balance, squirrels slip into them to bury acorns, and I see them to remind me that they exist.

I look at the shadows intermingled with flickering sunlight as breezes blow through the trees above and once more think of darkness and light and how they intertwine.

I hear crows warning each other that a stranger is in their midst and wonder what it is like to have wings and fly in the light, or no legs at all and wither in the sun. And I think I know both of these things.

I go round and round my favorite old park lost in a walking meditation and finally realize that in among the darkness and the light, the beauty and the sorrow, we are all still united by something greater than we will ever be alone.