Each passing year, we are asked to return to the ground of our spirit in order to go on.
Each passing year, we are asked to listen like the seed for our crack of light in spring,
to listen like the brook for our soft gurgle in summer,
to listen like the leaf for our orange face in fall,
to listen like the snow for a quiet place where we can powder down and rest.
Quote: Mark Nepo, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen: Staying Close to What is Sacred
“… What caught my eye was a cluster of tiny seedlings colored the bright new green of springtime, so bright it seemed to glow in the gloaming. The tender plants were growing in the loam inside the knothole. Far above the ground, a hole made by decay in a living tree had become a cold frame, a natural greenhouse that lets in light and keeps out frost. Life in death in life…
Instead of giving up something for Lent, I’m planning to make a heartfelt offering. In times like these, it makes more sense to seek out daily causes for praise than daily reminders of lack. So here is my resolution: to find as many ordinary miracles as a waterlogged winter can put forth, as many resurrections as an eerily early springtime will allow. Tiny beautiful things are bursting forth in the darkest places, in the smallest nooks and deepest cracks of the hidden world, and I am going to keep looking every single day until I find one.”
~ Margaret Renkl, from “One Tiny Beautiful Thing” (NY Times, Feb 23, 2020)
an excerpt from David Kanigan’s blog post- https://davidkanigan.com/2020/02/25/one-tiny-beautiful-thing/#like-51177
as the noise around us grows – the noise of technology, the noise of emotion and distrust – where do we go to find true moments of connection?
let your imagination go… anything is possible. (thank you, David Kanigan)
