A Sunday walk in redwoods on a creek brought deep remembrances of childhood terrain...pilgrims, xenoi though we be....there are some places that are more deeply kindred than others and speak of home.
Children's stories often tell the the tale of babes lost in the woods...but for some of us we ~find~in the woods, learn to listen,where water sings on rocks and carves wood and stone ...
The quiet collects in shady pools...may it cling to us, follow us, back into people realms where we lay our hands to work of many kinds. I recently heard a musican suggest that music is a chance to sit quietly, to be able, under the guise of enjoyment, to think on important things in life. An artist spoke to me recently of people needing art to see things that speak inner realities, the known but unknown, the hidden but accessible if...
He waters the mountains from his upper chambers;
the earth is satisfied by the fruit of his work.
Psalm 104:10-13 NIV
A joyous Monday to you.