Thursday, August 5, 2010

Life = Change

A little while ago, I was sitting outside knitting a colorful dishcloth and enjoying the mid-70's temperature here in Ruidoso.  I glanced up and noticed a dark cloud off to my left and the next thing I knew, a crisp gust of wind and several rain drops nudged me indoors.  As I sit here writing to you now, the temperature is a cool 58 degrees and the Good Lord is generously watering our little piece of heaven!

Life is all about change, isn't it?  The other day, several friends notified me of some 'strange' messages they'd received from my email address.  Apparently, some kind of bug had attached itself to my email account and so I had to create a new one.  It was a bit of a hassle, but a necessary one.  [Oh, if you had my old address and didn't get a message from me about the change, let me know and I'll update you...I can still check my old account's inbox.] 

One thing I've learned over the years is that you must be able to roll with the tide; bend like a willow in the wind; be flexible with whatever changes come your way.  One cannot overcome the inevitable shifting sands of time.  Adaptability and finding peace in the midst of it all is the key to successfully navigating life's path.

I wrote a poem years ago which speaks to that lesson learned.  I'd found a peaceful little spot in the shaded bend of a creek near my office.  When I was stressed by forces beyond my control, I would go there and find solace. The poem is a bit cheesy, perhaps, but I'd like to share it with you. 

This Quiet Place

Crisp leaves drift down to swirling waters;
and my tension is eased.
An autumn breeze torments the trees to nakedness
but calms the anxiety in my mind.

Submerged rocks and decaying branches
catch and keep discarded treasures;
a faded bandana, a child's lost sock,
silently synchronized with the current forever.

There is a peace in this quiet place
which belies the struggle beneath the water's surface.

Nature models an accepting grace of the cycles of life
and teaches me to relinquish my hold
on monumental troubles I choose to own.
To grasp instead the lesson of peace in this quiet place.

Well, the rain outside has stopped, the temperature is now a balmy 80 degrees, and I believe that I'll head back to the porch and my knitting.

Blessings and peace be with you until next time!
Lori

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