[When you live under the mountain]
When you live under the mountain
you do not see the mountain.
What mountain, you ask,
stirring your tea,
as your visitor falls silent
before the clouds.
--By Lola Haskins--
Today, I choose to believe in the indigo heart opening up in the clouds for me...even if the shape isn't perfect, even if this heart--like my own, is a bit crooked and prone to drifting. Today, I choose to be open to the possibility that signs wait for me everywhere...gentle reminders to stay the course and hold onto my silent reverence. Today, I choose to hear the words behind her words--the stories he hopes I will be able to discern in the steady rests in between his sentences. Today, I choose to see...