Everything Breathes
A reflective walk around the Dew Drop Pond
By Ella Tracy
The scene before me is breathtaking, and the fountain is the center of it all.
Water droplets arc through the air on a canvas of marvelous green. The pond is most disturbed where those droplets scatter over the surface. Ironic, as the constant splash is perhaps the most soothing constituent. I occasionally spot sheets of mist produced by the fountain gracing the air with ghostly presence. Sunlight tricks my eyes into seeing swirls on the water’s surface. In reality, they are simply ripples fanning out from their creator. If I could hold them, they would be cold and warm, smooth and viscous, weighted and comforting. When the ducks glide over the waves, they disturb the glassy surface to leave behind trails of diamond. Tiny bits of foliage are scattered over the water. They too glitter when the sun asks them to. I notice two distinct shades of green in the pond. They are both rich and vast, yet differ in translucency and movement.
I sit in the grass while I watch the water’s slow dance. Eventually, I remove my shoes and wiggle my toes in the soft blades. The sensation personifies comfort. It’s a familiar feeling for me. I breathe deeply, savoring the crisp, clean air. The earth, secure and encouraging beneath me, absorbs my raging anxieties. As I focus on the ground and the breeze and the water, my accelerated heartbeat slows to match the rhythm of the world.
The sunlight draws my attention next. I watch how it captures every motion of the water. It shifts and glitters in a peaceful display of nature’s harmony. It crests every leaf and flower with golden halos. It silhouettes the fluffy clouds in white so pure and blinding I can hardly look at it. It creates startling reflections in the pond, turns the grass to glimmering silk, casts an illusion of water’s movement over the leaves of the birch tree. It deepens shadows, illuminates what is hidden, turns something plain into precious gemstones.
After a while, I stand and venture toward the water. I walk the path around the pond slowly. Gravel crunches under my shoes. The mustard yellow and white flowers request solemnity and serenity, so I comply. From time to time, I let my fingers drift over the fuzzy tips of tall grasses. I don’t think; I contemplate. Something about the gentle whisper of the breeze and the ever-present hum of the fountain slow my mind. It gives me permission to forget my worries. My plans can wait. There is no need for extra conversation or music here. Nature creates the purest of melodies.
My gaze drifts to the trees circling the pond. Each one towers over me, yet I am not intimidated. They enclose and protect me. I am honored to learn from their wisdom. All around me, they stand with insurmountable majesty and prowess. Their great calm soothes me. Against all odds, in spite of decades of adversity, they remain proud and tall and strong. That is encouragement enough.
The trees are marvelous in their diversity. Some are narrow, hues of sage and moss speckled with the russet of their fruit. Others seem to encompass eternity with their arching boughs and olive green leaves. More still seem to softly smile like auburn harbingers of the changing season. They stand so still, so sure, so knowing. I wander beneath them, utterly humbled and filled with purpose.
I smile when I cast a glance within and find the physical symptoms of my worries alleviated. I pause where I began and take one last moment in this serenity. The breeze ruffles the treetops. Squirrels scamper about. The ducks sing together. Shadows shift and grow. Everything breathes.
And it is perfect, for everything is at peace.
