It could take a tribe to find the way back to what you love. A day's wandering could become a season, then another. At times it may all signal chaos. But take heart. Sometimes there is intelligence even in the crumbling of things.
The creek is wearing its usual disguise, braiding and unbraiding itself through narrows and pools as it pleases, proving its force by taking the path of least resistance, taking apart the stone one grain at a time.
If you were water, what part of your will would you be willing to dissolve? Which of your ways would you have to learn not to want to have? And how, if you always ran downstream, would your desire know how to live?
A fragment of fence long trampled by those who needed most to pass. Pilgrim, immigrant, refugee, all journeys severe, all made in longing. Most cross over what's already breached, but the step is long and touches down In a world that takes heart in the breaking of what divides.
The object of leisure is work. The object of work is holiness ... meaning wholeness. Recreation is for the sake of work. Leisure time is for the sake of recreation in order that the labourer may the better return to work. Games are like sleep -- necessary for the health of body and mind -- a means to health, the health of the labourer, the one who prays, the contemplative. Leisure is secular, work is sacred. Holidays are the active life, the working life is the contemplative life.