This morning as I write it’s still dark, but inklings that the sun will rise again tip the eastern horizon with almost-light, the stars are beginning to fade, the crickets singing their lullaby to the darkness. Most dawns I still do my practice outside on the deck. I feel so lucky that it is still possible, so blessed by this gentle fall, and also painfully aware that gentle weather is not the norm, any kind of gentle is not the norm in so many places here on Earth. So a breath, a bow, and a prayer for peace—however trite this sounds, however futile it seems, the practice, the practice, well, it matters. Peace in my own heart is work these days, this is work I can do.
And back to here: all the beasts crackling around in the fallen leaves and the twitters of the early birds, the sound of the breeze through the last-of-their-days oak leaves…the dogs returning from foraging adventures in the forest carrying deer antlers or recently a fawn leg…life is rich, life is tender. In this season so much dies, lays itself down on the earth and gets subsumed by rain and wind and it’s beautiful isn’t it?
Today I am wishing you beauty and time to recognize it, wishing you a depth of connection that soothes your soul and regulates your systems, wishing you the strength to look in the ugly places and still return to hope, care, engagement. Our fall groups have begun here at PrayerFarm, we have set the drum beat. I hope to see you and feel you sometime soon, up here or out there, through the ethers.