Every day, it's something new. It's a spring of artisan quality that never seems to go dry. All that's needed is a willingness to be aware.
Going out the woodland path we use for a driveway each day brings all sorts of news to be translated. Tracks, usually. And sometimes the tracks are so fresh that the animal that made them is still there to see.
The "critters of the day" this particular morning were a tiny mouse, a young opossum, and a small, unidentified bird. The mouse went zipping across the road in front of me with speed unbelievable in a creature so small. The 'possum took time to grimace at me before it scrambled out of sight into the weeds and then the woods with that comic wobbling gait set on high. Later, as I sat to eat my lunch, a bird flew into one of the glass doors and rebounded, only to fly away without apparent harm.
Such things provide fodder for thought, perhaps oddly. Mice, details? 'Possum, also detail... and carrying things close to the heart. The bird? Well, some things aren't as clear as they seem to some to be. I can relate to all of that.
When life seems to attack with teeth bared, is this an issue of defense or not? Are you scurrying off in a direction counter-intuitive to your needs? Are you seeing what should be right in front of you, or is something making it appear to be missing?
There are days when the old Hee-Haw television program song, "If It Weren't For Bad Luck I'd Have No Luck At All" seems like the theme song to hum, or when Murphy's Law is looking for special opportunities to stick you with something particularly rotten. Those are the days you hope will pass, so that something good can come of the swinging balances. If that's the case, I must say, some of us are overdue for the up-swing!
Still, we wait. And we work. One step at a time, one word on the page... delete or erase it, and begin again. Each time is a new beginning. Somewhere in the mists, the journey will come to a culmination, if not an end. Endings may even be new beginnings. Some things we are not meant to know, after all.
And so the search for new directions continues. The struggle to use what we have available and to move on to greater things is much akin to trying to walk around inside a tornado.
So when sleep comes late, your thoughts take on their own lives to disturb your sleep, and then waking comes early, when the day brings all possible irritations and annoyances you must handle for those who cannot manage their own needs, hold on. There will come a time.
Be silent in your anger and it will pass. Let your mind take stories from the land and air and water around you, and make them whole in the fullness of time. Close off access at least for a time to those who disrespect others, those who bring up petty arguments seen through a narrow lens. Look for room to breathe, and fight for it if need be, but always come back to the still place you know best.
Stillness waits in the deepest pools, where things unseen offer new ways and new ideas. Fear not your own imagination, but let it bouy your dreams and ideas.
And never, ever, forget to listen to the Voices; those inner voices are a part of you older than time itself. They know things. (Ahem.)