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. Feeling calmed listening to the raindrops, 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. 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. It takes some practice to see life from another's view.
I crouch and settle.
With Egret. With myself.
I'm relaxed.
And alert.
My gaze is soft.
I feel the rain on my head, hear the plopping drops, and feel the weight of my body.
This is resting meditation.
I realize that the Talk + Listen practice asks for a similar presence.
