When it rains they forget

Christmas tree shines light and I sit,
listening to the rain dropping out the window.  Two weeks of
storm doesn't mean we are out of this drought but
people like easy solutions and I already notice the lack of
conservation in the neighborhood.  Hello rain, they say,
that must mean everything is better and they use and consume
and waste and hello people, we need water, not just a good storm's worth,
please slow down.  Slow down.


I wonder about life and how people can lament something, can know
that things are not right, can see where changes need to be made and
yet, do nothing.  Nothing.  Continuing on as before, as always,
consuming, wasting, rushing, "progressing," losing touch with
all that is real.  Tolstoy wrote a short story, pen to paper, questioning,
how can we continue on like this?  How can we know and yet not do?
How can we pass on this legacy of wrong-ness? 

If I cannot pass on love, simplicity, truth and goodness,
if I cannot offer rhythm, stability, peace and knowledge of the truly important,
I will feel I have failed.  When we are glad for rain so we can water our lawns again,
when we work 40 hours so we can buy the newest, fanciest gadget to remove
us further from the people around us, the sunrise, life, reality,
when we buy and consume and don't consider where this stuff came from,
what it's made up of, and what it's doing to us, we have failed. 

We have failed to live our lives beautifully, to embrace the created world wholly,
with reverence, to love and give and mindfully live each moment.   We have given
ourselves over to false comfort, false security, to entertainment and those who seek
profit, not truth.  We have entered the Brave New World cheerfully, with no regrets,
leaving behind Narnia, Middle Earth, Prince Edward Island.  Is there a place for us
in this world of consumption, of materialism, of success?  Is there a place for
those who walk a different path?  And how do we keep that path clear, not
wearing out before those who follow behind reach it?

"For Lucilla was not without hope for the future.  She had lived long enough to know that the spring always comes back." ~Pilgrim's Inn
I guess we just continue on, walking and
planting.  We become as Miss Rumphius, tossing
seeds upon the roadside wherever we go, beautiful lupines growing
in our wake.  Hope for tomorrow keeps us moving, hope that spring
returns.  Hope that eyes open, that birds sing and that there will always
be people who want to listen.  Hope that we will shower our children with
beauty, love, nature, give them a voracious appetite for life and they will keep seeking,
keep pursuing, follow this road less travelled.  Hope.



  1. I wish I could sit for a while and drink a glass of tea with you. <3
    And I wish I could make my words be as beautiful as yours. You cause so many thoughts for me.

  2. You are creating such beautiful memories for your children Amy. Memories made of the things that matter most. I feel just as you do about these things. I pray we all start seeing what truly matters and what truly has worth I this world. Not money and more stuff but connection, relationship, nature, togetherness and the simple things. Sending love xx