So much is falling

The woodland is littered with acorns and I have seen so many dropped branches this long dry summer. I really don't recall so many in 2022 when it was also very dry. Maybe I notice more.

And on noticing, as I sat with Kairos, still and silent, a hare ran through the trees and stopped in front of me. Not close, but maybe only 20 feet away. I sat, spellbound as the hare nosed in the leaf litter and sat back up on its haunches. Nearby, a muntjac had alarmed at something and ran through the trees. The hare watched, curious. Then it got up and loped away.

Soon after, I watched squirrels chasing and a little muntjac buck pursue a doe, even closer than the hare. None of them seemed to notice me. It felt good to be invisible.

On this walk, I had clambered up into the Form Tree, who told me again that he IS his form and that his shape is his story and is who he is. His form is his conversation with the world. I think of the Hopkins' lines What I do is me, For that I came! The tree said, 'Me' makes no sense without my story-form.

He then asked me if I have grown into a shape that no longer tells my story? Do I need to change my story-form? What needs to grow, what needs to be let go?