So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? ~ Pink Floyd So. It has been decided. I am gradually moving out of my city home in the next couple of months and embracing what my inner itch has been questing for, or at least a stone along that path at this point. The country storms call me. The feral cats call me. The wind that blows for only those who live on the prairie know, calls me. Knowing that doing it on my own means way more than trying to hold down a fort in town. And that I will rely on others in ways that stretches my bones. Dreams for my children call me. The trees, frogs, camp grounds and fire pits, deer, grasshoppers, sunflowers, growing fields, honey bees, mushrooms and those tricky coyotes... howl and call me. Along with all I fail to mention or have yet to discover, which calls me. Creatively engaging with what sustains my life and how to bridge community, calls me. Better? I wont say that. Exactly accurate response to what my intuition has been driving for? I will say. Yes.
Posted on: Tue, 05 Aug 2014 02:37:32 +0000
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