This is a new sort of blog entry for the new moon this evening. For the first time, I have rewritten a post, perhaps because I am either a bit neurotic or obsessed - or whatever craziness works - or because these thoughts are still clanging around in my head. Mostly, I couldn't comprehend my meaning, so I don't know how any innocent reader could have. So, take two:
I had a great reminder last night to seek within myself for what I want to find "out there." Most of us know the feeling of searching for buried treasure (aka secrets to the universe). We lift under so many rocks, breaking our backs, blistering our heels. We curse and sweat in the process. To make matters worse, the more we uncover, the more rocks we discover (unintentional rhyme).
Thus, "out there" becomes a bleak and expansive landscape. How do we find truths in a rocky canyon land such as this?
Thankfully, if we are fortunate that is, we have one of those "a-ha" moments. Mine came this morning while looking out the kitchen window at my overgrown side garden. Why am I imagining owning a "better" garden when I can't keep up with this small one?
Then, it occurs to me, I might never be a gardener. And that's OK. But, more to the point, what I am in search of isn't anywhere but under my own roof (in my own head, heart, and soul). My own house is what needs excavation. My own bookshelf houses so many books I've never read.
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