The Lyrics From Billys Forest Chapter 241
March 30, 2021
There’s tremendous positive energy in a forest long before the sun elects to arrive. A frozen morning sky that’s barely lit by a sliver of the moon provides a bass beat for the constantly hooting owls. It’s as if they’re the tour guide. Taking note of your Now. Mindful of the presence of where you are. On this particular writing day it was December where the forest floor was brittle from the cold. Listening. Only to ask the you, “What if many more of us did this? To arrive before the rays of light. To listen. More than ever so many are bogged down by the effects of a normal life returning. The grip on our hearts strangles the dreams once held. Other people’s expectations are higher than the way it once was because fewer people are showing up with loyalty and dedication. Fight or flight? We can no longer say, “Everyday feels the same.” No! Have you ever been a school teacher? Have you ever walked the path of medicine? Have you ever stood at the register at a grocery store and let items slide by? Waiting for the sun to rise. Waiting. In the hours before it arrives the temperature is always the coldest. Is that how you feel about your present moment? The forest isn’t the only natural creation on a planet overtaken by a pandemic. You are a source as well. You are a gift. A seed. A seeker of light. The single blade of grass that reaches toward the sunlight. The future barer of fruit. The page in a story that creates a continuation. Listening. A frozen morning sky that’s barely lit by a sliver of the moon provides a bass beat for the constantly hooting owls. It’s as if they’re the tour guide. What if the sun didn’t rise today? How dark will your midnight become? Be the light. Believe so that others will too.
There’s tremendous positive energy in a forest long before the sun elects to arrive. A frozen morning sky that’s barely lit by a sliver of the moon provides a bass beat for the constantly hooting owls. It’s as if they’re the tour guide. Taking note of your Now. Mindful of the presence of where you are. On this particular writing day it was December where the forest floor was brittle from the cold. Listening. Only to ask the you, “What if many more of us did this? To arrive before the rays of light. To listen. More than ever so many are bogged down by the effects of a normal life returning. The grip on our hearts strangles the dreams once held. Other people’s expectations are higher than the way it once was because fewer people are showing up with loyalty and dedication. Fight or flight? We can no longer say, “Everyday feels the same.” No! Have you ever been a school teacher? Have you ever walked the path of medicine? Have you ever stood at the register at a grocery store and let items slide by? Waiting for the sun to rise. Waiting. In the hours before it arrives the temperature is always the coldest. Is that how you feel about your present moment? The forest isn’t the only natural creation on a planet overtaken by a pandemic. You are a source as well. You are a gift. A seed. A seeker of light. The single blade of grass that reaches toward the sunlight. The future barer of fruit. The page in a story that creates a continuation. Listening. A frozen morning sky that’s barely lit by a sliver of the moon provides a bass beat for the constantly hooting owls. It’s as if they’re the tour guide. What if the sun didn’t rise today? How dark will your midnight become? Be the light. Believe so that others will too.
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