swaying trees

I'm standing in a forest in New Zealand. I was walking along, but then I stopped when I heard a slight creaking sound. And looking up at some of the tall, slender trees, I see their tops being caught by a breeze, and some of them are swaying. And standing here looking at the swaying trees, I realised that my body had started to sway too. There is a resonance happening. And isn't it interesting,

I notice that when my body starts to do something, on its own really, soon after the mind kicks in, really as soon as it's noticed, and it wants to control it – either to stop the body swaying, or to allow it, but to somehow claim that the mind is in control and had decided that the body should sway.

This is one of the great tricks that the mind is often playing: a post hoc claim to have made a decision. No, the trees were swaying and my body started to sway with them, out of a simple resonance. And only afterwards, the mind tried to claim that it had decided that the body shall sway. Such a cunning mind, always claiming credit for things that it played no part in.

And swaying like this, I realise that resonance is happening all the time. I guess mostly we don't even notice it. But we are not separate from our surroundings. If our surroundings are still, we become still ourself. If on the other hand, the environment is chaotic, rather manic, that manic feeling will enter our psychology. It will enter our being. Our body will fidget it and be unable to keep still, and we will have a restless feeling. And then, of course, there are all sorts of other possibilities, like the swaying of these trees: my body is naturally swaying too. I guess I could stop it from swaying, if I wanted to exert that sort of control. But why would I? The sway of the trees and the breeze is swaying me too, and it's a very enjoyable, relaxing sensation.

I gave thanks to these trees and their gentle sway.