Insects ring melodically, the afternoon mild and sunny as I sit upon ophiolite rock–a whorled, twisted mixture of shale, quartz, and volcanic bubbles. Some of the oldest rock in the world, pre-dating life on the planet, formed when Europe and North America were rubbing up against each other. I am a little wary because our resident moose is snorting in the woods behind my back and his hoof falls reverberate through the ground. He knows I am here and wants me to know he is here too. The earth message today is not to discount the seeming insignificant. The tiny winged ant crawling on the toe of my boot; every twig, leaf, the microscopic and unseen, to the moose and myself, we all have our place. We are all integral petals in the infinite lotus of creation. The moose is adding his emphasis to this message. I leave my seat for a more comfortable distance and pull down a vine growing wild nearby, loaded with concord grapes dark purple and juicy, frosted with blue. There are a dozen frogs sitting statuesque around the stone edge of my pond, soaking up the lingering warmth of this fall day. They show me their skill in staying present, of which they are masters.