Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

The curative power of patterns.

June 3, 2016

 I wouldn't, if pressed, know how to classify my belief system. And, yes, I am a strong believer in the ability to cherry-pick one's means to faith. I mean, why not? Who really knows? And those who say that there *is* only one right way to hold faith, well, that's never really brought us any closer to some (ironically) universally held religious ideal of peace and mutual acceptance. 

 

I mean, come on. We can't all fit under one umbrella--we'd never fit and, besides, who could decide on just one color? Forever. One black umbrella, no matter what the weather? Not quite practical. Or fun, come to think of it.

 

Plus, then there's the sticky question of who gets to hold the handle...

 

So, I'll take what works for me because, well, that's the only path to happiness I know and, last I checked, I was the only one living in this body (thank goodness--some days there's little enough room for myself as it is). 

 

So, yeah. I'm a little Eastern, a good deal unstructured Pagan, and a lot of whatever works in the moment. 

 

Because sometimes it takes all the faith you can muster, even the belief that the minute hand will, once again, round the face of the clock, to push you through to another day. 

 

The fact that you made it? That's faith. That's sunrise. That's moonrise. That's high tide, low tide. 

 

That's patterns. That's hope. That's grace.

 

And that is all kinds of beautiful. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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