From time to time the berry briars are slashed and chopped, piled into a tangled heap of brown limbs.  The roots, however, breathe deep in their power and push up again strong.  It does not take long.

What are briars but a gardener’s day of work?  What is a gardener but a strength for weeds?

We are rolling in the Tao, the yin/yang, at every turn.  Some days I am content and amazed to be given the gift of human life on this brilliant blue-green planet.  Other days I fight the tedious job to breath in and out. 

Allowing the teeter-totter to rise and fall on either side is my practice of balance.  The desperate obsessive voices do not ever go completely away.  And my eternal sitting spot in the deepest center of my Divine Lover’s heart is secure.