Yogi In A Tree

I am a yogi who lives in a tree. Originally, that is. With ease, I can stretch its roots, collaborating with the earth in a harmonic dance of I need you and you need me. The roots impress upon the soil and the soil consequentially senses its wish for sustenance and vitality. A miniature community functions in unity to sustain the singular life of my home; the archaea, bacteria, fungi, algae, protozoa, and a wide variety of larger soil fauna including springtails, mites, earthworms, ants, and insects that spend all or part of their life underground, and even larger organisms such as burrowing rodents. 

As a giant of the forest, with red armor, to protect my cambium layer, my outermost protectant made of weaving wood, I poise myself upon its roof-like branches escaping the underbelly of the canopy to wave at the warm sunshine. Emerald pads are melded with the bark for spring and summer. The chlorophyll catches the light and its energy flows down deep back to the earth and up again.

I am a yogi who lives afloat in the dust in the wind. In May, oppositional energies entangle and tango in a tizzy across the American central plains. Still, I remain calm for I know the power of impermanence. This, too, shall pass as all things do. I stick to a picture frame placed in a child’s room. Later, I am brought to see the child reach adulthood, so I float on and away.

I am a yogi who lives submerged in ocean water, among the salt. A humpback whale filters me in and blows me out to become once more oneness with the waves. Smaller organisms live within me like plankton. Larger animals thrive and dive around me. Some pass by me, and I see them, but some do not, and I know they are still there. Existence is a fickle thing, but whether we exist according to our standards or not, we are still there, existing. We will continue to circulate in consciousness and experience our environments. Other things will exist too, whether it is in the capacity of our senses to perceive them. 

I am a yogi who lives on a singular dandelion seed, upon a golden flower sprung up from the earth. My host sways and waves in the breeze choreographed in a flow all the buds and blooms innately understand. A bounding toddler bounces towards us. I await the blow, but the being surprises us. Instead of ripping us from our current state, it squats down, and stares inquisitively. It does not yet know the power of a hopeful wish. 

I am a yogi who lives in a human. I am this human body’s energetic force, its awareness, its soul. I sustain it’s being humanness. From tiny to big, I reside inside it as the peace and joy it can tap into whenever it is worry-free and present with its existence. I am the yogi who lives.