Nightime. Lake San Cristobal campspot. I sit in my camp chair, five feet from the water's edge. A grey moth sits on my jacket. A mouse peeks his head up on my chair. A fish jumps in the water. No breeze. Stillness. I feel loved by the animals, by nature. I send love back to them. The moth relaxes. Starts to clean his antennas. He is here because of my headlamp. Why are they drawn to the light? Why are we?
Morning on the lake. Steaming coffee. Prescription for a great day. Geese flying overhead in typical V-formation. They announce their presence to the world. Yes, we all wish to be seen. The lake is glass, only the occasional ripple of a fish jumping. A bird skims the water, his wings almost touching the surface, his perfect reflection below him. The sun is not yet over the mountain. The day waits in silent anticipation. When the sun comes up, all this will change. The day will be underway. But for now, the stillness remains.
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