Monday, April 11, 2011


The house we are going to buy/borrow/move into sometime has been taken off the market. this is because it is waiting for us. US.
My mind has been lost, as well as my heart and my good spirits, while i look around at the packing and the movement grown physical.
Apologies for what is ... are thrown and recieved and thrown again. what is, always so difficult to stomach when we are so far from 'practice'. . . what should be is all i can get my head around today, and so i spend my time grieving an unreality and     Jesus! get me out of this rut.

One of the things I keep falling back onto is the command of the world to 'listen'. LISTEN, damnit. All these prayers, wishes, longings thrown out into the skies without so much as a breath between... and without the 'time to spare' for listening for an answer... sheesh, something is a little out of line here.

Wouldn't it be great to build a chapel somewhere in the woods and just go to it once in a while? maybe thoreau's cabin would do... its not really that far from here, after all, and its about the right size.

why is it so hard to build the chapel into the day? children's risings notwithstanding, i can't get my moments to align for my quietude..i am praying for the quietude in the midst of a wilderness of children and their needs, and again, the battle against 'what is' rages on...

why is it so hard to acknowledge the chapel already built into the day? the one that exists in the deep breaths, the resting hands... the long blinks?



Mama Mama Quite Contrary said...

Can I come have a sleepover at your new digs... without my children? Pretty please?????