I’m a terrible hypocrite. I can’t stand spiders in the house, but I adore them in my garden, where their bridges and palaces are now quivering everywhere, only visible against the sun or by the rare leaf suspended in mid-air … exquisite.
A leaf floating free
From stem and branch – inholding
The ever-tree myth
Once more nature translates its lore to the soil, carrying patterns of relationships to new settings.
We do the same, daily and all year round, translating our experiences to ourselves and others … our cells, bodies and minds continuously changing, never the same, despite appearances.
I wish for grace in waiting, the hibernating towards re-membering afresh the cyclic occurring wholeness in new formations.
And I wish for the patience and good humour of my tiny Buddha.