Thursday, December 15, 2011

Secrets While Tending The Inner Garden

Walking this morning in the field surprised at how little light is needed to find one's way. Or perhaps knowing the way in advance helps? The beavers were quiet off to my left (that is, to the east). No visible stars. Last night I heard the far away train and talked to my daughter about the mysteries. Navigating puddles, listening for the dog's tags. We give up the little mysteries so there's room for the big ones. There is a bridge I will always remember for the God sounds you pointed out beneath it. Death is not the end but it damn well seems to be. Earlier we ate apples and popcorn and watched the sun set and discussed the role realism plays in funny stories. Pretty please with cheddar cheese? A head cold makes one struggle to communicate, which is another way of saying one struggles just to show one cares. Yet the practice of awareness is fundamentally healing. Does any of this make sense? She keeps secrets while tending the inner garden and we all know where she learned that trick! Must we then learn how to barter? Isn't negotiation a sign of weakness? All these voices in my head with which I must contend! Later, alone, I wondered who is served by the undoing of what is not real. You're out there and we both know it.

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