Nature has no position. The grey, cool wind, the blue, and scented trees~ none call you by name,

nor does Nature know of your wrong-doings. The crumbling dirt knows nothing of your successes.

The opening blooms nothing of your failures, your pain, your grief.

Neither does the storm that breaks black thunder know of your titles, your possessions or your goodness.

Who you are. In the arms of the cold waves, and endless grasslands, of tumbling bee and winding vine

and rushing river~ Our mistakes fall loose like distant dancers. Our beliefs and dreams swirl loose, to dust.

A crow’s long cawing, on the wind.

We are free.

~Rachel Alana

the fiery blend of cold and hard edges….and then we soften again….

inquiry for today~ the many names for hard beauty…..

those dreamy spaces

May you have the courage

to listen to the voice of

desire that disturbs you

when you have settled

for something safe.

~John O’Donohue