The art of life

I took a journey today. Down the field-line of life. Soaking up some much needed warmth to replenish my body from the cold days just passed. Down the frozen snow covered furrows. Clods. Cornstalks. Weeds. Paying attention to each step in order to retain my footing.

Yes, it is early January. Intentions, observations, goals. All internal conversations revisited after a year long hiatus.
We are in this moment in history/herstory. We feel such anguish. Such chaotic chatter. Such tension and pain.
But the envelope has been pushed and it is time for us to take ownership. Not just sit by and watch. But participate. As civil and loving human beings. How can that be possible? Bringing two very different words into the same sentence. Civil. Loving. They just don’t come from the same cloth. One meaning getting along, even in disagreement. The other embracing and appreciating people exactly as they are. Or are they from the same cloth?

I traversed cultivated fields and virgin woodland. And I came to a moment of realization – it is this. My life. Is but a snap of a twig in the grand scheme of existence. My footsteps will disappear – as the breath of wind blows the grains of coldness into drifts of time. Or that tides erase with each wave of reaching for the shore. My time here is but short.
But I do have the power to alter. To cause a different affect.
To make a conscious effort.To bring about pause.
And I choose.
To share the beauty and love of life.
Even if as simple as a weed in snow. I am witness to that beauty.
And it reminds me that we must also – be witness to love.

That, my friend, is the art of life.

Living fully, carving a life,


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