deep draughts
"Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars. I cannot count one. I know not the first letter of the alphabet. I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born."
~ Henry David Thoreau, Chapter 2: "Where I Lived, and What I Lived for," Walden
There is so much to mull over on a birthday, no? I spent the latter part of the (Thursday) evening decorating the house a little for my birthday party, which will be tonight (Friday), and now the house is silent and I find myself unprepared for sleep. I am wide awake in a quiet house: TSO is at another house dogsitting and RugbyGirl is upstairs sleeping, even Bravo cat is lurking around trying to find some entertainment in this waking time for us both.
At a little after midnight I rang in another birthday, celebrating with a glass of wine and a cigarette on our back porch, and found myself being mindful and thankful for so many things; thinking too of the passage of time and those we meet and sometimes take along with us on this journey. I sat outside on this dark night listening to the Farm noises around our home: the rushing water over stones and sandy stream bed; the gentle shifting of plant life with each hushed breath of the wind; the rustling of undergrowth as night creatures skittered about in search of dinner or adventures. In all of this I breathed such a sigh of contentment. Contentment for our sleepy community, its little successes and even its sometimes harsh reminders of the hard work we do; contentment for the ability to live in such a beautiful, bucolic place, where we can all feel so overwhelmingly sheltered and held and yet so safe and cozy and right in ourselves. And most of all, I thought of all the wonderful people I have had and still have in my life. So, I find myself on this, another birthday, the last of my twenties really grateful.
~ Henry David Thoreau, Chapter 2: "Where I Lived, and What I Lived for," Walden
There is so much to mull over on a birthday, no? I spent the latter part of the (Thursday) evening decorating the house a little for my birthday party, which will be tonight (Friday), and now the house is silent and I find myself unprepared for sleep. I am wide awake in a quiet house: TSO is at another house dogsitting and RugbyGirl is upstairs sleeping, even Bravo cat is lurking around trying to find some entertainment in this waking time for us both.
At a little after midnight I rang in another birthday, celebrating with a glass of wine and a cigarette on our back porch, and found myself being mindful and thankful for so many things; thinking too of the passage of time and those we meet and sometimes take along with us on this journey. I sat outside on this dark night listening to the Farm noises around our home: the rushing water over stones and sandy stream bed; the gentle shifting of plant life with each hushed breath of the wind; the rustling of undergrowth as night creatures skittered about in search of dinner or adventures. In all of this I breathed such a sigh of contentment. Contentment for our sleepy community, its little successes and even its sometimes harsh reminders of the hard work we do; contentment for the ability to live in such a beautiful, bucolic place, where we can all feel so overwhelmingly sheltered and held and yet so safe and cozy and right in ourselves. And most of all, I thought of all the wonderful people I have had and still have in my life. So, I find myself on this, another birthday, the last of my twenties really grateful.
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