I’ve been in the woods.  The mere act of walking from my campsite to the circle of friends around the fire, under old growth wide cedars, with tender tiny purple flowers at their feet, even with the forest dripping with the mist, I am transformed into an angel walking through heaven.

Now back in my cluttered house, silent partner, stuff to do, things to move, heart aching, ready to change.

Watching the Tao rush and move, splash and sparkle, deep and still as I sat by the river, there is only change.  Yet it is the material world that reflects this–from the inside of the stillness in me to the movement of my fingers on the keyboard.

I bow to the Tao, but need my Dear Divine One close to my cheek, arms around my shoulders as I walk in bare feet through the haphazard rocks, sticks and tossed shoreline of my day.