And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles,
no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey,
a journey of one inch,
very arduous and humbling and joyful,
by which we arrive at the ground at our feet,
and learn to be at home.
It’s amazing what a good soak can accomplish.
In the cleaning of a crusted pan or the healing of sore muscles
or the steeping the mind and heart into the intimacies of the landscape
rolling out before me:
the breezes over the horse pasture and berry fields,
the choreography of the leaves in the thick tree lines,
the horses’ tails swishing now and again,
lilies splashing song from their fountain of leaves.
This is the time of tiger lilies on the edges of roads: their oranges and yellows
stalking the boundaries;
singing out like God’s constant presence in the journey of our lives
whether we notice or not;
whether deep in earth or striding on top.
What long gifting, all this living.