Lawrence yellows
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Subject: Lawrence yellows
Date: Thu, 07 Oct 1999 14:54:41 CDT
This will be short, very short, as it's one of those days when Poetry has folded her tent and stolen away, and the heart is just not in it. You know what I mean. All is disconnected momentarily, as it is when the poetry is gone.
Each day when I ride up here to be with you, I see the trees sliding further into condition yellow. A day by day experience, carrying me along in the cycle of things. Birth, growth, maturity, decline, death. There are times when my faith is a shouting thing, triumphant over all, and there are other times when my faith has not even the volume of a whisper. Those are the times when the one foot goes in front of the other. Trudging times.
For those of you going through these trudging times (and you know who you are), know that my heart and prayers are with you. You *are* remembered by me. You *are* my family, my friends, and oftentimes my strength.
Tomorrow evening the plan is for Sister Nancy to pick me up and transport me out to The Farm. Their newly built house requires paint, so both Monte and I will be working on it. It will be good to be out there working. I will be absent from the Circle until Sunday evening, however, so think nothing of it when I go silent for a time.
I walk through the day bouncing high, my new shoes from my Angel Standing By carrying me through. So lovely, so comfortable.
Throughout the day your words come to me. I think of the losses you are facing, the struggle which threatens to consume you, and I marvel at your strength in the presence of such adversity. Surely you are Chosen Ones, strong enough to bear that which must be borne, weak enough to grow from the experience.
There are times when nothing makes sense to me, and the bottle begins to glow and whisper my name. How seductive those times can be. Yet this day is one of those where it doesn't, for whatever reason. Just a quiet day, with nothing much to say.
At meetings when they call on me I simply say my name and add, "I'm just here to listen."
I'm just here to listen today.
Doesn't mean I don't love you.
Aloha,
Dickens
