Learning to Dance

Explorations in the Spiritual Life

Date: August 13, 2004

evening

We call it the smell of rain, but it’s not really that. It’s more earthy than water could be. It is the aroma of rained on land, the smell of dirt, but more than that. It is soil, mere ground up rocks, but more alive, a life giving aroma which taps into those primal parts of our being, even still, instincts which revel in the delight that things can grow, that water from the heavens is sustaining us and our kin for a little bit longer, parched land can sate its long thirst.

The soft patter only lasted an hour, making a complete change in feeling, in aura.

Unfortunately, an unmade room and scattered possessions occupied my time more than sitting on a rocking chair with a cup of tea in my hand and the rhythm of life all around singing to my soul.

Tomorrow will be more focus, set up by the work of today. Much orbits my thoughts right now, in fact, but nothing which settles enough to discuss. So, I’ll to bed and see what lyrics paint my dreams, or stir my thoughts for tomorrow’s quests.

morning

The sky is gray, streaks of white, rain filled, echoing distant thunder. The cloud moved in over the course morning with a tease of precipitation. We still wait.

I got a new desk last night, or rather an old desk which was given to me, in good condition, larger and more steady than the temporary version I made when I first came up here. With my books and shelves and other assorted furniture and collected items putting in the new desk means a morning of moving things around, creating piles, moving those piles, unknotting cords, and generally making a fine mess of things before order is restored.

All this to say, I have a bit of practical work filling my morning before I can commit to longer meditation.

Good news, though, fills my head. I’m starting a new project this week, or next at least. A historical fiction account based on the Gospels. The fun part is that much is now presently dependent on my own skill in shaping it. If I can pull it off, my collaborator, and uncle, has publishing connections so can push it through. That fact in itself is a peculiar instance which transcends my own expectations, and so I walk down this present path with an open mind, the kind that comes from potential answers from unexpected directions.

This isn’t a burden lifted, but a burden with an end, and purpose. Indeed, it requires a lot of work, a lot of training, a lot more focus than what I’ve even done in the past.

It is a delight, and more so should it help resolve the pressures of this present life and current worries.

late evening

When it is almost 2 am by the time one walks in the door it is easily figured that the evening has been missed… as regards to writing this. A delightful and full evening in other ways in fact.

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