Still idealistic, aimless and broke, nothing stopped us from becoming adults.
Found over at idiomill blog.
I loved that sentence.
I thought, 'Yes, despite all that. And despite mad choices, bad choices, the choices made by others ... I still became an adult.'
'Idealistic and broke.'?
Oftentimes.
Delighted by life so far?
Of course!
Just woke up thinking of some of my favorite faraway places, and how I carry them around with me, like home, wherever I go.
And how when I settle in someday, plant my roots for good (or nearly good) I want that place I make—wherever it might be—to be a testament to all these other quietly loved places that have made, and continually make me awake to the world.
Whoever writes this blog made me say, 'yes!' as I read the above. I found it over on facebook, thanks to Diana. I recommend you calling by to check out her blog, A Certain Simplicity.
When I settle down one day, I'll know it's the place because there will be something of every other place I've loved, woven into that home, that location, that country ...
I took this photograph from the lawn of my funny little cottage, located on the edge of Otago Harbour, Dunedin ... in 2001 maybe. The dates are imprecise now but it was after that divorce, way back then.
What more, you may ask, do we want? Ah, but we want so much more—something the books on aesthetics take little notice of. But the poets and the mythologies know all about it. We do not want merely to see beauty though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.
C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
I came to understand that pursuing your heart's desire is a devotional path that requires all of one's effort, and every facet of who you know yourself to be.
By Sofie, from her Journal post titled, The Liturgy of My Hours.
"Gradually my perspective on time had changed. In our culture, time can seem like an enemy: it chews us up and spits us out with appalling ease. But the monastic perspective welcomes time as a gift from God, and seeks to put it to good use rather than allowing us to be used up by it.
A friend who was educated by the Benedictines has told me that she owes to them her sanity with regard to time. "You'll never really finish anything in life," she says, "and while that's humbling, and frustrating, it's all right. The Benedictines, more than any other people I know, insist that there is time in each day for prayer, for work, for study, and for play.
" Liturgical time is essentially poetic time, oriented toward process rather than productivity, willing to wait attentively in stillness rather than always pushing to "get the job done."
Kathleen Norris, extract from The Cloister Walk.
The truly lovely Diana, introduced me to the blog of Sofie and I believe I may have found a delicious new blog to add to my google reader. I particularly enjoyed Sofie's post titled The Liturgy of My Hours ... oh yes.
When the woman you live with is an artist, every day is a surprise.
Audrey Niffenegger.