Part 3: Womb of the Wild | Eventually and carefully I reached a cradle right in the heart of the tree. What I am calling a “cradle” was the central place of the tree where the strongest limbs gave way from the trunk. The space therein was precisely the size of me, a perfect seat, a forest womb. I sat for a while there with my legs folded and my arms clutching the nearest branch for stability. But then there came a great wind. Oh, how the leaves gleamed in their greens and yellows as the sun shone through their dancing! I stood in the cradle to witness the flickering sight, the wind playing at my hair. An even greater wind rushed the tree and took me a bit off balance, and I was afraid again—not of snakes, but of…damn it, I was just afraid. Pure fear. That is exactly what it was. In a moment, I felt afraid of everything. My life. My calling. My inability to meditate. My relationship with snakes.
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