Certain, sure,
apprehended gratitude suffuses these moments, two galaxies merged
with arctic clarity. The near frost of a Hudson Bay cold front
rendering the night sky so close it seems to swim around me limpid
and wet; a river of stars. They say there are times of Northern
Lights about, and for, which I eagerly look forward. Returned from my
former newer mountains of the Organ to the Green knowing with surety
ship my service. All my life’s chores reconciled into a new
purpose.
All my auditions passed
by guile, stealth, accomplishment or panache. What remains, perhaps,
the most difficult, will be to sort and load that which I will carry
forward minus all my dear friends left behind. Annie will be first
then following: the books without which I might otherwise not wish to
live. Various cooking items, Pam either has or mine are better.
Finally how to put it upon wheels and move it twenty-five-hundred
miles. And about this, I confess, myself in something of a dither.
Nothing for it but to do it.
Yet again I am
reluctant to leave Pam for even a brief time. And St. Johnsbury is
such a wonder to me. Reminiscent of my sense of America, the before
not the afterward.
To close: I have a
sense born of silence and awe, what I offer is what you already
possess: yourself. Yet unexplored yourself becomes merely
subsistence. Or existence as lively as a stone. My ignorance
outdistances my grasp yet by experience rendering each day the
ordinary of my life, extraordinary.
Affirmations abound
when seeking what we are consciously within in
the context of life;
difficult but not impossible. In a sense you and you alone can define
yourself. Keep It Simple Stupid, it is not about you but us, all of
we: the family of life. Each has a role or part to play, a way to be
useful and fulfilling to the process of our collective process.
Be well and pray for
me, I need all the help I can get to accomplish this next audition.
130604 EDT 01:04
gratitude
©
2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved
