I’m sitting by a quiet river in the Himalayan foothills, waterfall murmuring in the distance, while the frogs croak their evening mantras. They’re good company. And of course, once you spend long enough with frogs, it’s only a matter of time before one particular green philosopher hops into mind – the one who sang about the rainbow connection.
I grew up with Kermit – the gentle optimist, the kind heart. Looking back, he was a kind of sage in his own way. I can picture him in his later years, trading the chaos of the Muppets for a quieter corner of the world and finally letting the noise fall away.
Kermit the Hermit.
In some ways, I’ve been a bit of a Kermit myself – leaving my small-town swamp for the bright lights of Tinsel Town. Too often I found myself the only sensitive and sensible soul in a circus of flustered pigs and chickens, doing my best to keep things moving while feathers flew and chaos reigned.
Those years were enough to steer anyone toward the mountains in search of a quieter rhythm.
And so here I am. This is where the rainbow led me. I’m still seeking the connection – it feels as elusive as ever – but as I sit here sipping chai from a chipped enamel mug, the sun dipping behind the mountains, incense smoke curling like a question mark and dropping ash into the water, it’s enough to just watch the ripples.
Kermit, I suspect, would approve. He always struck me as the kind of soul who’d understand the quiet contentment of a lily pad – simply sitting, letting the water be water.
And my lily pad? It’s the middle room on the first floor of One More Night Hostel. Backpackers come and go. Some try to draw me into conversation; mostly I just nod or smile.
I’m content here by the river’s edge, listening to the frogs burp their small, earnest chorus. And like the lovers and dreamers before me, I keep hoping that someday I’ll stumble onto that rainbow connection.
Until then, I’ll be down here by the river, hanging with the frogs.
Jay 🐸
There's a beautiful depth to your writing. After all the chaos, I'm really glad you've found a peaceful pad to rest, where the noise can't reach you. It sounds like you're exactly where you need to be right now, just reflecting between chapters.
Thanks for sharing Jay, love the simple quality of being that you have captured: noticing the unexpected, minor details, the chanting guttural frogs, can enliven us, all things can become a mindfulness bell, the melancholy crow caw, the digital sting of a ding:
can these bells of awareness create a space, open us up to deeper rhythms, echos calling us to participate, protect, becoming a elemental whisperer for -our natural world?
the bigger patters that embrace us flow through us, interstitial fluids cleansing our sediments of respiration, asking us for full embodiment, with loving awareness & clarity, to see our living world, to not be in denial, or look away, and numb, sun our light, and sense the slow death of all natural living systems:
That reminds me of Tom Robbins book: 'Half asleep in frog's pyjamas:'
Let's not sleep walk within a mental fog, a dash of distractions, the dull thud of our nervous systems are also in stressful decline!
Let's join all our social Kermit's with our inner hermit- and create a choir of compassionate action !