Letting it find me

I fly to Brazil often, like 2 or 3 times per year. And Christmas with my family are a must. But this time feels… different. It is as if Brazil itself is talking to me, calling me home. The beaches, the mountains, the fruits, the sand, the waterfalls, the trails and those trees. I never loved Brazil this much, or maybe I never let myself feel that way. This time I finally caught up to it. I let it find me.


Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree of a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest know
Where you are. You must let it find you.
– David Wagoner

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