Here's a poem from the book you gave me:
Stepping from the brightness of Epiphany
I enter an unfamiliar place called "Lent"
My eyes are slow to adjust to the change.
I blink back tears and stand still wondering
if my eyes are open or closed,
for nothing visible lies before me.
My sense tell me there are objects ahead--
prized places, sacred spaces.
There is no sense of urgency;
time has fallen away leaving
forty days and forty nights
to explore this unknown, yet somehow familiar place;
touching, feeling, knowing holy moments.
-I think this is how i feel about things.
In other news a list of things:
-chicago fallen away like a bright but distant memory of good food, friends, that restaurant (the one that I wanted that wouldn't open) trying to live on cash only and surviving. that was a feat even if this month is a failure. i want to say more but i already feel adrift from that magical place.
-my eye is twitching (still) and i don't even want to talk about my toe
-my nails are growing which is nice and i debate growing my hair long or cutting it but i don't suppose i mind the grey.
-the wisteria is blooming soft and alluring, the freesia is a heady druggingly sweet fragrance that hits you as you walk by and demands attention, the lilac is lovely, formal and reserved.
-i named the grey cat Mortimer. But i'd like a cat and a dog to have in the house. Not that i don't love the ones i have.
-i have to pick the rest of the oranges
-i have to paint
-i filled up a miniature journal. it only took me 1.4 years.
-i'm out of gas, so i have to go... so i can go get some. literally. i mean but i think i'm also out of gas non-literally. so either way.
have a good day,