Hello friends,

I wrote this week’s newsletter in advance, because I’m camping with no cell service. It’s so good for my psyche to disconnect from electronics, stare at mountains, and walk along streams for a week. I’m a mind-racer, and this disconnection—like meditation or prayer—helps slow me down inside. The meditation on nature is always a gift to me, even in the small city where I live.

For example, on the summer solstice, it was cool enough for me to take a long afternoon walk. I headed to one of Portland’s many parks and rambled on a track beneath tall Douglas fir trees, pausing to watching squirrels and crows as well as other humans out enjoying the longest day.

A yellow swallowtail butterfly danced ahead of me on the pathway. I stepped to the side to watch its graceful rise and fall. Then it began to circle around me. I slowly turned, following its slow lazy arcs. Again, and again it circled, until finally, it drifted off to the north, and I continued my southerly walk.

Upon my arrival home, I paused at the driveway hose to fill some water dishes for the birds and beasts. Something landed on my arm. Startled, I looked down to see an enormous moth, perched on one of my tattoos. The one that spells out Gnosis. Before I could move, it flew off.

I felt so blessed by these winged creatures, grateful I could share a few moments with them.

The next day, on another walk, a small white cabbage moth flitted about a lavender bush. I kept trying to capture its image, but unlike the yellow swallowtail, it moved too quickly. I snapped a blurred photo anyway, though I needed no reminder of its presence.

Take a breath. When was the last time you saw a butterfly or moth? Take another breath. Remember.

Best wishes — Thorn