The isness of being. Saturday, August 2

The shakes are with me today. It's a real and quiet thing, a part of the isness of this journey. The body is speaking, and I am listening.

I was reminded again that everything has its place. The broad bean stems from the harvest are slowly returning to the earth, just as a stale piece of bread has a new purpose to serve. Nothing is ever truly gone, just in another part of the cycle.

My mind went out into the chatter of the world, to a rumored eclipse that wasn't to be. It's a testament to how easily people can be led to see with a blindfold on, to choose a single candle over the vastness of the light. The date of the real eclipse is set in the stars, a truth that doesn't need our stories to exist.

My mum thinks I don't have empathy, but my path is to see the truth without the emotional labels. The real sorrow is to not see the holiness in every day, and the isness in all of it.

It's all real, but none of it is.