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As a Shintoist, I have nothing but respect for nature in its sacred perfection. It is a profoundly humbling feeling to sit where the stillness remains unbroken by the voices of man, woman, or child, opening my mind to the calmness and peace that surrounds me, and the whispering of spirits. Gently drawing ki from the trees, the stones, the lake, I feel the ancient lifeforce of the universe flowing through my fingertips. It is indescribable.

It is not enough to passively observe the beauty of the natural world with a deferential attitude; one must guard this treasure from human destruction.

When I woke today from resting under the shade of a tree, I found a bird inside my keikogi. I believe he is a robin - however, the feathers on his breast are spotted and sparse, and pink flesh shows underneath. Despite his immaturity, however, I am quite assured he has a strong pair of lungs from his shrill chirps in protest as I laid him upon the grass. My ears are still ringing.

I know I must leave things be, lest I disrupt the delicate balance of nature, but the little creature seems to have other intentions for me. Unable to fly properly, he hops clumsily after my heels. I fear he has mistaken me for his mother.