Two things called for my attention.
A Sabal palm near the porch (have you ever heard raindrops on their fronds? It sounds like rain on a metal roof, one of my favorite sounds in the world.)
And a bird—a Great Egret on the pond edge.
I didn’t hear thunder, so I grabbed my camera, ran outside, and squatted behind the bird. I wanted to see the pond from Egret's view. After many photos and feeling mesmerized by the raindrops and captivated by Egret's wet-feathered head, I said wow and this is it, and thought, Birdie—are you sitting here in the rain to help me?
Because, oh gosh, I hope you get it when I say that Talk + Listen is like being with bird and looking at the pond drops from Egret’s view while refraining from getting lost in other thoughts. And to go a step further, I imagine that bird is a human someone not at all like me in appearance, behavior, or habits. Yeah, that different. You know, it takes some practice to see life from another's view.
I crouch and settle. With Egret. I'm relaxed. And alert. My gaze is slightly down and soft. I look a few feet ahead. Egret is in my peripheral vision. I feel the rain on my head, hear the plopping drops of rain dance, and feel the weight of my body settle. This is resting meditation. And, I realize that the Talk + Listen practice asks for a similar presence.
