gratitude

I sometimes remember those endless quiet days and hours that I spent alone in nature.  For so many years they were my anchor but also my compass.  The place that I wrote, and thought and etched out a living.  The place that pulled me here and there, and back again.  The place that pushed my limits, worked my mind, and made my body strong.  It was me and the wild back then.  That was it.  I liked how I felt, all honed down to sharpness.  Sometimes I miss it.

I do.

These days my life seems more wrapped up in life than in nature.  More busy and crowded. More full.  Definitely less honed.  My time out there is rarely very long, hardly ever quiet, and mostly never alone.

But I can see that I'm learning to love this home life in a way that my once restless, living-from-a-backpack, seeking-wild-adventure self would never have understood.

Back then it was the constant wind in in the mexican desert that defined my thinking, questioned my answers.  Back then it was the smell of the ocean, and the journal tucked in my heavy pack that urged me on.

Today,  I am finding brilliance in the rhythm of daily routine.  I am finding that my mind can be strengthened by the questions they ask.  That my character can grow strong in the face of their needs.  That our joy can be magnified by their wonder and awe.

I can see that they are growing to want to know that quiet, wild, peaceful, restful space too.

For this I am thankful.

We're off on a most definitely-not-nature adventure.  See you back here in a week or so.

Hoping your week is full of so much to be thankful for.