How grateful am I for these flourishing grounds? I am glowing and gushing with reverence and rapture for this land which is so astute in it’s cycles. In it’s bursts and bareness. It understands how to empty so it can refill. Because the joy in filling is far greater than in being full.
As in the way I’ll walk around for days, drops in the bucket one by one. Till I’m full and it’s done, and the words spill from my hand like a stalk gone to seed.
As in the way of this journey; in meandering far from the wickedness of winter only to discover we can be bare in so many ways, and fullness isn’t measured by a scorching sky but by how deeply we can empty to open for that fill.
I walked out on a dream. Crossed the world in half a day, and arrived with sea in my hair and sun glow on my skin. With each moment my bones grew bare, and I bartered away my light to see the cold earth crack open with flowers.
Because I knew I would get it back.
Carl Jung (via redy)
It’s been eleven years since I last visited this pond.
Hell is the burning desire
for this moment to be different.
It’s that simple.
Jeff Foster (via abiding-in-peace)