I walk with Llamas. Freely, unfettered, they walk with me.
I enjoy the company of cows, taking in their calmness, their easy going ways and adapting their peace with their environment as my own.
I laugh with pigs. Watching them enjoy the ability to run among the trees and savor the goodness the earth provides as nature intended.
I sleep with dogs. Warm and watchful, appearing completely relaxed but never quite unguarded just as I am never completely tuned out.
I chatter with chickens, enjoying their banter as they scratch and peck around the house and I sip coffee and chime in when I have an opinion.
I welcome strangers; stray dogs, fallen fledglings, orphaned wildlife, feral kittens, misplaced beings of any and every kind make their way to me with a knowing, as though led. Some staying out their days, becoming kindred–some moving on as nature intended. Each owning a part of me formerly undiscovered.
I share with this land everything that is myself. I walk with it. I talk with it. I cry with it. I laugh with it. I struggle with it. I rejoice with it. I cooperate with it. I learn from it. I glean from it. I give to it.
The land and I and every being on it are bound in a way that defies all that was proclaimed for me by my birth and circumstances. Even if I must leave it, this piece of earth and every being that ever tread on it will go with me.