In the fine white snow of this December day I see how a rabbit came this way into brushy piles by the stone wall. Was it escaping . . . running in fear? Was it foraging . . . trying to feed the constant desire of its stomach? Was it leaping for the sheer joy of the movement? Rabbit tracks . . . I dream myself into the vulnerable creature that made them . . . so much like me. Heart pounding a mile a minute, often stopped and frozen in fear, or scurrying for cover. . . .
I notice now that I am suddenly alert, that I have exchanged any notion of efficiency for the experience of attentiveness. With the movement of another creature I have remembered my creatureliness. I feel a conformation in this. I am in ever present time now, God's time, alive time.
— Gunilla Norris, Journeying in Place