March 9, 2021
I’m a poet. One that just happens to write in a forest. On May 7, 2015 I found myself sitting inside the collection of trees at the Billy Graham Library. I did nothing but write. Only to learn what was being written carried with it a vibration I had never experienced before. That’s why I’ve always called the podcast The Lyrics from Billy’s Forest. Since that May day I’ve continued to write within any collection of trees while still keeping the origin of the seed very much alive inside of me. During the morning of December 19, 2020 I was using the writing instrument to paint the photograph of my own forest here in south Charlotte, NC. I spoke of the Morning Doves and the music they bring. Always peace filled and welcoming. I stopped to stare at the leafless trees. The morning sunrise in bloom and it was only 35 degrees. Frost on everything I touched. But there was no room to think about it for the songs from the doves erased my human tendencies to bundle up tighter and cover my ears. So where is this going right? The things in front of us are so often missed because we’re more interested and invested in getting through the moment. We’ve forgotten how to enjoy the sounds of crackling brown and yellow leaves beneath our feet. It’s been nearly a year since Covid 19 changed not one but everyone. So often I’ve tried to describe the experience as walking across a very dry desert with no water or shade. Yet on this day March 9, 2021 a new shape appears in my heart. The effect of the words put on a page in December 2020, associated with a forest experience on May 7, 2015. Look at all of those dates! The seasons that’ve come and gone. In taking notes I realized that we’ve not been strolling across a dry desert floor but rather trapped inside a winter’s forest. The trees are bare, the long tall grasses have lost their color yet the stream continues to flow. The birds are flying, the rabbits are nibbling and the deer carry with them a heavier coat for warmth. That’s what we see. But is it reality? The view shouldn’t be the winter’s forest but rather the new growth featuring leaves on the tree, the scent of wild roses and the sound of long distant lawn mowers and warmth of a spring breeze. Change your point of direction. Look outward to the new season rather than finding yourself inside an atmosphere of what once was. Look into the sunrise not around it. Experience certainty through those daily rays of light. The things in front of us are so often missed because we’re more interested and invested in getting through the moment.