Right now, my well often feels depleted. I think there are tiny winnows darting in and out of the shadows. Sometimes I catch a flash of silver—and then its gone. Once in a while, a whole school of fish swims around my ankles and I scoop a couple up. But when I return, the waters are still and empty again.
Tamiko! I am super late to reading this issue because I wanted to sit with your words, really soak them in. Your writing is such a gift to me (and to so many others). Thank you for this offering. Gratitude feels like an understatement.
Thoughtful. Botanical gardens and the magic life in them are reservoirs to dip into. After a fruitful harvest, having given everything it could, the garden rests peacefully - happy to be empty. Even in its seasonal slumber life forces are at work - gently shifting and pulling, adding and lifting - gathering and holding - shaping the reawakening in joyful dreams of the ancient wheel spiraling up - singing a new old song.
Tamiko! I am super late to reading this issue because I wanted to sit with your words, really soak them in. Your writing is such a gift to me (and to so many others). Thank you for this offering. Gratitude feels like an understatement.
Thoughtful. Botanical gardens and the magic life in them are reservoirs to dip into. After a fruitful harvest, having given everything it could, the garden rests peacefully - happy to be empty. Even in its seasonal slumber life forces are at work - gently shifting and pulling, adding and lifting - gathering and holding - shaping the reawakening in joyful dreams of the ancient wheel spiraling up - singing a new old song.