… listening to birdsong as I hang out the laundry (the larks are back and nesting, mapping out their territories in song, so it is particularly splendid right now), the toads croaking their hearts out in the little acequia that runs through my land…
I’m packing a bag and some books and heading down to Taos to stay in Mabel Dodge Luhan’s old house. Really. I am. I can’t believe it myself, but it’s true.
The trip was filled with ghosts and they or the land, or both, gripped my soul on this sunny New Mexico day when Kim and I journeyed back in time and experienced the conceived utopia of another era and a sense of the lives lived within it, in old houses and on ancient land.
Pain or no I intend to continue. And you all are some of what I know to grab hold of when I need a pull up, when I need to remember who I am.
… I put some real heart into wondering why I had ever been. And there was nothing. No great thing. No reason at all that I could come up with.
… and I haven’t even started with Kim’s divine pastries—tarts and scones and cakes and pies and cobblers…
So whatever it is you may be struggling with, might I suggest you think about Grace’s idea? Find a nourishing way to see it if you can.