Thoughts words and actions from Grandma
chirps of cardinals, wind pushing cool air onto my cheek rosy with frost, fresh and tingling almost burning, my steps rhythmic crunching and crunching as I move forward in my desire, the desire to change the landscape of my life from frost to mud, then warm sun, golden
Out of the frost I move with conviction to change.
Shafts of light against mature bark, brown and warm. Red and yellow curved edges happily floating on a clear gentle stream. Soil dusty and tamped down from satisfied hikers.
It should be beautiful but for some it’s not. It is shafts of low light bringing another day to an end and all that has changed is the day. Red and yellow curved edges that will soon brown and freeze solid in place, another moment without result. Soil dusty as air out of hopeful breaths that life will be different and it isn’t. It’s the same. The desire but not the outcome.
The pandemic has touched everyone. It is oddly fascinating that everything has changed but it’s still the same. And I fear another year ending, another holiday season approaching, another day full of change without outcome.
Grounded Wisdom 