I write when the sky is gold, when my world and mind are light. It is in this light of day when I feel most connected to my soul, as grand or simple as it may be in this state of sky. Light strikes through the window of my kitchen, off the face of the kitchen table it first finds, and then illuminates me at the island where I write.
I wonder how different our attitudes might be, if we all took time to witness and be present to the magic of our universe that appears in simple forms each and every day. How different would our souls be if attuned and engaged to the mysteries everyday around us instead of racing off to imagined exigencies?
I’ve lived the rush, a state of race and hurry, and learned again to pause. It’s hard to see when you never search, hear when you never listen, discover without permitting our own selves to be found.