Held in Her blood-stained calloused hands, or maybe Her teeth, i come to know She will stop at nothing to protect me, but She also tells me i must get a few scratches and callouses myself.
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trust an arroyo
As i continue to discern my steps in my physical and spiritual desert wandering, soul/soles to the soil, i long to trust the natural ebb and flow, mysterious movement of the arroyos. To be gracious with myself when things run a little dry and welcome the storm waters even when they cause upheaval for they are the source of new life.
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mystifying endless sky and desert expanse
What is it about these seemingly desolate places that draw us to them? Is it because any notion we thought we had of ourselves, life, the Source, the Mystery is apophatically wiped away when confronted with this empty expanse?
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