There is a language of the forest, its articulations heard in every hissing leaf and hushing wind, whispering its memory in each scented whiff of earth and in the listening silence. The forest is alive with innumerable delicacies of Earth.
Hyampom, and the forests draped across the innumerable shoulders and peaks of the Trinity mountains that shelter her, speaks. All of Hyampom does, especially the silence, through subtle impressions carrying the murmurs and pictures of the unsaid, the hidden, the unnoticed sheltered within the visible. On this side of our blindness to the invisible there is enough sense of it that we are inspired to author words like magical, mystical, mysterious.
At the same time, Hyampom houses a paradox central to the Human experience: what is seen lies hidden and the invisible is always on display.
This bewitching play is constant theatre in Hyampom as it is throughout Earth and Life.
What I see and hear with my eyes and ears – the kingly oaks, towering pines, goats grazing peaceably on the property, ducks quacking upon takeoff from the pond, the rain tapping on the roof of childhood memories – is merely the prologue to a more vibrant narrative of soul and spirit and the imagination they enliven.
The forests, the mountains, the ponds and rivers, the trees, the rains – they speak and on the canvas of the receptive soul their voices paint the pictures of the invisible.
All I have to do is listen, close my eyes, and feel.