Walk with me in a meadow clothed by God. Sense why your path is bathed in purple and flecks of little yellow droplets loaned to the grass by the sun. Wonder, just what is beyond this ridge, and further what becomes of one when they try to be carried by the sea?

It rained this morning, and the cows lumbered into the barn sogged through. They did not receive a nice warm mug of tea as myself while I watched them in their slow lugging motion, as I somehow thought of the power of a tug boat and farm animal at once.

Our world can make one into a pinwheel, and the breathe of our anxiety will whirl us around into places we have no wish to go, and far from the places we seek to discover. We still question the brad that marks our center and believe that the stem which supports us will never allow the contortion of the blades to unfurl.

I am saddened by the rush. The need for more and the demands for speed. There is a time for speed, but we forget that we need so little. Shoes and food and a few threads of clothes, and a chance to sit at our table and have a meal which hasn't touched a box, nor known a life on the shelf.

Feelings can be gentle in spirit, and they like to hid and be covered by the vices of the world, do they not? And what can we make of them, but that they are a big clue to our purpose, our work here on earth. And why can they become so dead on, if we wish to pull back the clutter?

The week is passing by, and I am longing for nothing. I see the richness contained in moments of trivial necessities. I see the care placed in unexpected places and often it's intent never revealed. I delight in the curiousness that makes each new day something to play with.





Week 2 quilt a long!