Listening to the Mountains

Sometimes the adult mind can get a little boring -- numb and asleep. We don't spend enough time watching the sky and listening to the mountains. I can't explain it, but if you close your eyes and listen very carefully, one can hear a very low humming sound.

The mountains become a part of your being -- resonating, and you can hear it. It's easy to forget, though. It's almost like forgetting your heartbeat or your breathing. But it's good to remember, or else one might not totally be alive.

Today Hikaru and I were plucking grass in the backyard. The springtime grass stands about four feet tall now, and the grass undulates with every touch of the wind. We tossed the grass grain heads up -- high into the sky, and the wind carries them away. Hikaru's smile was so huge that you wonder why adults are missing out on such great joy and fun.



We also followed a hairy caterpillar climbing up the wall of the house. We tried to get it to climb onto a blade of grass, but instead it dropped down, curled up, and acted like it was dead. Hikaru said, "Caterpillar sleeping." So we left it alone on the ground.

In many ways, we've all been acting like the "sleeping" caterpillar -- sleeping and craving sleep at every moment -- trying to catch up from the deprivation. But then it's also hard to go somewhere new by being curled up and pretending to be dead.

This evening, during Hikaru's nap, I spent some time sitting outside and watching the sky. I sat right next to the caterpillar. Glints of sunlight danced around me with every gust of wind. I tracked airplanes across the sky. I heard dogs barking, the blare of a car horn, and voices in the distance. I saw the shadows lengthen, and the sun set. As a window to the universe opened up with the darkness, the light of the first star appeared. And again I heard the mountains.

Suddenly, I looked on the ground around me, and noticed that the caterpillar was gone! It must have woken up.