Day 7 — pollen cloaks and clings thickly across the lake's placid black surface under the morning sun

Where is it that I dwell? The gift of this place and time overwhelms my physical senses–the drifting scent of the forest floor, the songs of the bullfrogs, crickets, and birds, the colors and textures of the forest, glens, running and still waters, the heat of the sun’s touch on the nap of my neck, the moist touch in the shadows of the trees, and the chill of the moon’s long goodnight along my spine. The physicality of this place brings me back into my body, back into this now moment. And now is the only home I am called to dwell in. There is no health in dwelling in the past for it is not a home. There is no health in dwelling in the future because no one lives there. The only home to dwell in is the presence of now. All other dwellings are a type of unliving. Where will I dwell today? I want to dwell in this place of now. Today it is my home. Now is a gift I must be present here to receive…