Time in the woods

78AC59E8-E53B-420D-A6B6-EC6722E1F03D

A time of windy days, of falling leaves

Trees of fertile, intricate roots, anchored

Rarely do we enter the woods

As if we are afraid bears or snakes may cross our path

Thursday afternoon or any day,

Any ordinary day, is a day of sauntering,

Luminous time of spending an afternoon

Without concern of looking backwards

Not to imagine but to experience kindness of time passing,

To experience ourselves vulnerable and alone sheltered in the woods,

I like to think distant birds return because of me, a selfish notion of enticement,

Dreams die not because of unimportance

Though lustrous, their solace is celebrated no more

If you are struggling just to survive, are you missing much of life?

I encounter the homeless and heard of refugees

They crowd the margins, tiptoeing the edge of the cliffs,

The deep sea below and jagged rocks.

Each morning they look for a clean place

to be alone.

Life of abundance, life of scarcity, life of loss

And the liminal spaces between

What are the life’s possibilities and questions?

Intense experiences challenge the boundaries.

Solirude. Tumult. Arrested time.

The book I’m reading, page 37, asks,

“What’s the measure of your worth?”

Priceless, I shouted.

Choices

We lose sleep because we want

To know if our life has meaning

What’s the meaning we are looking for.

I pray for the Holy Spirit to help me

I went to see my primary physician today. Seeing a physician is a confirmation of our mortality. We are mortals. We are subject to decay. It’s a morbid reality.

When we pray we affirm our hope for immortality.

We should realize both conditions offer us a chance for greatness. Greatness means steps of extraordinary work. Greatness is immortality in the eyes of man and God. 

My doctor told me I have work to do. 

Blind tasting

A pause from blind wine tasting
Then walking to an open amphitheater
Empty at the moment but with a promise
Live performance and an audience in two months
That’s how we look at time
Flowing, not always unbreakable, sometimes sidetracked
Returning back at the table, a new flight of wine
It’s harder to know the correct vintage and varietals
Noticing mixtures of tiny deviations
We are students of perfection eager
To extend the reach with misses and recoveries
Without showing true ignorance
We faintly know how to breakthrough
The boundaries and gain insights
To master the test of senses
A simple title of sommelier
Or it can be to master the erotic pantomime,
The courtship of the birds of paradise
We will all receive a slice of blueberry pie.