It has been a summer and season of very little inspiration for me – not for lack of beauty and endless possibilities.  A dryness of soul, perhaps.  A parched earth in me that mirrors the gardens outside my window that continue to fight valiantly for every green leaf and budding flower.

Books and journals and even my beloved camera sat a bit forlornly gathering a soft coating of dust as I walked by them each day.  They did not chide me, they waitedt for me – they knew this was a temporary season and maybe a place I needed to be for a little while.  I agree.  Perhaps more challenges lately that I thought would pass more quickly and easily- the very sore and aching back,  the small but worrisome illnesses of family and friends, the election cycle, the violence in the world, the unrelenting heat and humidity of the summer ( which I do not bear with any grace).  I longed for the cool days and cooler nights, the relief from the  back pain, the healings that we prayed for because I felt that those were the things that would hydrate my soul with a soft and gentle rain.  It’s not that I mind some dryness once in awhile, it has been more my friend than foe.  I know it always has something to teach me if I have the patience to keep my heart open because I know my roots are deep and the water is deep inside to sustain me.

I looked for encouragement  in the poetry I love but it was not until last week (coincidentally as the weather started to cool) when something came to me quite randomly ( although I don’t believe in random-ness) from the American poet Mary Oliver.  She wrote: “The most regretful people on earth are those who feel the call to creative work and gave it neither power nor time”.   I taped Mary’s quote to my fridge along with another affirmation I wrote about not letting pain define me and as I walked to the front door to let in some fresh air it started to rain and a new season began.  As I continue to stand in the refreshment of the rain and the cool and damp I share with you an excerpt from the poem by John O’Donohue entitled “At the end of the day:  A mirror of questions”

What dreams did I create last night?

Where did my eyes linger today?

What did I read?

What did I begin today that might endure?

Where could I have exposed myself to the risk of something different?

What reached me today?  How deep did it imprint?

From the evidence- why was I given this day?