Tiger and Bella are sleeping, wrapped in the afghan I place over my legs. I am reading a wonderful book by Mary Rose O'Reilley, The Love of Impermanent Things.
It works well for me tonight, as I feel myself in some sort of exploration today I don't even understand. One thing I notice is that I have great love and care for the energy I currently have. It is not overly abundant, and it is enough.
O'Reilley says she is writing "a logic of images." She says, "I invite you not to work but to rest. Stare and ponder. What you find out, I hope, will not be the story of my life, but of your own."
Is that not perhaps what we wish for another with every contact, that we rub against each other, and exfoliate new knowing we each own?
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel writes, "HOW SHOULD I LIVE THE LIFE that I am?" Perhaps this is the human question, the search within.
O'Reilley quotes Thoreau.
"What do we want to dwell near to? Not to many men, surely, the depot, the post-office .... but to the perennial source of our life, whence in all our experience we have found that to issue, as the willow stands near the water and sends out its roots in that direction. This will vary with different natures ...."
Each day, lately, I have seen at least one female deer. That nourishes my nature, and places it in a nest that's content. I need to see myself reflected in the eyes of the natural world. Today, I found a flat, round, homogenous stone. It asked to come home with me, and it sits now on the table, a hand-hold to deepen and lengthen my sense of time.