Monday, October 8, 2012

A Sort of Soft White Blur

The glasses one wears make a difference. I can't handle trips to the dentist, hence, I am a spiritual adviser to the rich. On the other side of the road a sort of soft white blur identified finally as a skunk. That's dawn then. That's the morning walk.

The dog waited. Jesus consults, advises, cautions, encourages. That too is walking before the sun rises, in the old neighborhood, the site of so much anguish. The words that I use matter, even in twenty semi-related sentences. As I am - as I remain - deeply grateful.

What is chance? What brokenness is it I carry with me beneath the slivered moon and still later over tea? When you write my heart lifts a little, as it always has, it does. Apologies as well. Well, we have to get on with life, however we define it.

I'd rather not look stupid and am also scared to quit which from time to time creates a problem. That's a temptation of sorts, isn't it? The mossy bank was less inviting in November than in July when weeks without rain left one longing for water. My latest book is about spiritual irrigation. I mean integration as did you.

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