I had some company in my work. Snakes don't bother me, and he was obviously just trying to catch a little sunlight, as I was. The mornings are chilly so an afternoon cemetery bask is entirely acceptable. He was fairly quiet, occasionally rustling a few inches to the right or left to best expose himself to all the sun he could. It's hard to argue with a golden snake in the golden sunshine, and he seemed apt to agree with anything I said, while showing no inclination to talk back. All in all an agreeable companion.
It seems a silly skill to lose, and even more absurd yet to be excited about reacquiring it, but my ability to still is coming back to me, and I welcome it. As my no-leg friend and I surveyed the scenery there seemed no need to for words.
It is a still place, a place where all strivings have ceased. There is no hurry or worry, no deadlines. Nothing left to accomplish. No regrets. All is finished and nothing is left for tomorrow. Simply still, still, still everywhere you look. Time creeps and whispers. Stone erodes away over a century of years. What is there, remains. Unchanging, never moving.
Obviously, this is not the kind of still for which I pine, but to simply be for awhile, without a thought to what came before and what's next, to turn my face to the sun and hear the leaves fall around me. To keep companionship with the lowly and humble, to share being without speaking, these are the moments I am learning to seek out and embrace. To lean back on what's constant and sure and not worry about what is fleeting.
It's a worthy lesson, a worthy day to learn it, and worthy company to teach it.