I’ve been in a pause of silence. I caught a cold from my grandson and that has pulled me into an inner landscape. It’s odd to have survived the “pandemic” and then be caught up in the inner journey of contemplation and analysis of retreat that healing invites.
As a child, the evening before this day we made baskets of construction paper and filled them with candy and flowers, which early in the morning we hung on the doorknobs of our neighbors.
This morning I’m looking out on beauty, a half moon bright in a blue sky. My husband and Friend Skunk met this morning and each calmly went their own way. Two deer visit our yard in the early morning hours these days.
I’ve been thinking about impermanence. A friend suggests writing quotes I love on a piece of paper torn in a strip and folded into a circle like a little boat. Float the boat in water and watch the words and possibly paper dissolve.
I anchor that with these words of David Whyte:
Reality met on its own terms demands absolute presence, and absolute giving away, an ability to live on equal terms with the fleeting and the eternal, the hardly touchable and the fully possible, a full bodily appearance and disappearance, a rested giving in and giving up; another identity braver, more generous and more here than the one looking hungrily for the easy, unearned answer.