IT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHO LIVE ALONE It happens to those who live alone that they feel sure of visitors when no one else is there, until the one day and the one particular hour working in the quiet garden, when they realize at once that all along they have been an invitation to everything and every kind of trouble and that life happens by to those who inhabit silence like the bees visiting the tall mallow on their legs of gold, or the wasps going from door to door in those tall forests made so easily by the daisies. I have my freedom today because nothing really happened and nobody came to see me, only the slow growing of the garden in the summer heat and the silence of that unborn life making itself known at my desk, my hands still dark with the crumbling soil as I write and watch the first lines of a new poem like flowers of scarlet fire coming to fullness in a clear light.
.... From The House of Belonging © David Whyte and Many Rivers Press
With much love,
Barbara and Peri