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Rated: E · Prose · Nature · #2267369
A conversation with a spirit guide.
I stand alone yet not alone. The leaves rustle above me and I sigh. This is home, not the city where I reside.

I kick my shoes and socks off and dig my toes into the earth. I can feel the world's pulse and it makes me feel alive.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and focus inward to the connection my feet make to the environment. I can still feel the sickness from the city's pollution, but it was less here surrounded by the trees and wildlife.

"Everything's connected," whispers the one I call Grandmother. "All things have spirit, have life. Even the stones."

"I understand," I whisper in response.

The sound of the nearby brook calls my attention and I focus on that soothing babble.

"Water is women's magic. Water carries spirit. Water is life."

"Thank-you, Grandmother. I shall remember." I listen for more of Grandmother's words, but she remains silent. There was a sense of anticipation as if she knew I was seeking answers and was awaiting my question. "What am I to do?"

"Go to the water. The water is women's magic."

I wait for more, but Grandmother has spoken all she will for this question. "How will I know I'm in the right place?"

Grandmother remains silent. I sigh and open my eyes. She is gone, but I have no desire to leave what has to be one of the last vestiges of healthy on the planet as yet. I wonder how many more places were like this one.

After I wash my feet in the brook, I reluctantly reclothe my feet and, even more reluctantly, head back to my car and my "life" in the city, wishing for better.
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