This day I had noticed small debris drifting through the air. Chickadees and jays were poking around the upper canopy of the trees dislodging bits of leaves, lichen and moss as they looked for food. This fragment was different. It danced across the sky above me. It fluttered up and down. There was the slightest movement of air that I only noticed as I stood still, which I often do. This papery snippet seemed lighter than air. It floated. I watched it gracefully tumble down in front of me. It landed. I briefly lost it, like it had been absorbed into earth. I walked over and slowly kneeled on the ground where it landed. A creature was resting. Small waves washed over its body—brown bands of sediments settled on a sandy shore as the water slowly receded after a rain. These undulations reminded me of the elements of the earth that are pulsing through its body the same as mine. We are alive together in this moment. We sat quietly observing the world.