...is not actually a break.
I am slightly overwhelmed with the amount of assignments that have to be completed this week.
As I am writing this post, I am sitting in the kitchen drinking rooibos and eating a supper made of vegetables with the anticipation of scarfing down a chocolate chip cookie when I am done. I live a paradoxical life.
I am desperate for nature. I like this city and being able to walk to the grocery store and little coffee shops, but I am lonesome for beautiful trees and water and birds and summer warmth. It is hard to escape worries when there is no where to go that doesn't remind me of them. I don't know where to rest in the grace of the world.
The peace of wild things by Wendell Berry
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.