Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

The mercy of the tide.

March 16, 2017

 

I'm all about using what's on hand for, well, anything. I have this stubborn conviction that everything I need to solve a particular dilemma is either right in front of me, or else tucked away in my cellar, my closets, my kitchen. It's not so much that I'm industrious, per se, (although I'd like to think I am), but that I'm lazy about researching and loathe to buy anything cheap and/or slated to last for a season at best. 

 

This inherent distrust of convenience, of cheapness is all well and good, of course, and even healthy. But without the resources to invest in worthwhile tools (shoes, trowels, clothing, suits, luggage--whatever), sometimes convenience becomes a necessity. 

 

I know that, but still I hate caving (even typing that capitulation...grr). I'd still rather slap a wheelbarrow together with old plywood and a wheel from a defunct lawnmower than go buy one. (I actually wish I could do that, but I think it would end in disaster...). Maybe it's a desire for self-sufficiency bordering on mania. I don't know. But, like anything else, I'm willing to listen, to give this incessant need a voice, to see what it has to teach me. 

 

Because I know, as soon as I stop listening, it will nudge me awake at 3am, begging to be heard. That's how these things work. 

 

Completely inconvenient. 

 

 

 

 

 

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This Quiet Earth