But when we begin to tell stories,
our imagination begins to flow out through our eyes and our ears to inhabit the breathing earth once again.
Suddenly, the trees along the street are looking at us,
and the clouds crouch low over the city as though they are trying to hatch something wondrous.
We find ourselves back inside the same world that the squirrels and the spiders inhabit,
along with the deer stealthily munching the last plants in our garden,
and the wild geese honking overhead as they flap south for the winter.
Linear time falls away, and we find ourselves held, once again, in the vast cycles of the cosmos —
the round dance of the seasons,
the sun climbing out of the ground each morning and slipping down into the earth every evening,
the opening and closing of the lunar eye whose full gaze attracts the tidal waters within and all around us.
David Abram excerpt from Storytelling and Wonder
One thought on “Hatching the Wondrous”
lovely phrases to ponder…