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the hovering

In the beginning creativity hovered. And the hovering played with the nature of things like a mother hen brooding with patience and heat. Potential bundled up in space ready to burst into a constellation of distinctions. At the heart of every distinction would be a spot that was neither here nor there, both this and that. And in that liminal place relationship brewed. So that, brooding and brewing, the hovering arrived at an idea: To become a world of relations.

Happy solstice. May it serve to usher radiance and creativity into our relationships, and into the world we make by tending them.

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solitude, sort of

There’s a place I’ve been going to the past couple of weeks. It’s a short drive on country roads to get there. There is a pond and trees and sky and a picnic table where I sit and take out my journal,

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