letting Sundays be Sundays. As a child, Sundays were set aside from the other days of the week. Somehow they were slower. There was church. and then the waiting for the pot roast while my Dad listened to the ball game lying on the couch with the newspaper tent over his face. My brother and i could do anything quiet. I knew that other people did different things on Sundays than they did the other days of the week. I knew that often, Sundays were a day of visiting, too. Tho my family were not visitors or visitees. But i knew from watching the movies on the tv that Sundays were days like that. Off and on, i've tried to repeat this pattern and am finding myself there again, with Sundays devoted to this Place. First Light to Last. Quieter. and here, giving water. cleaning Goat water tubs, filling them. Giving water all around. Doing this SLOW and with attention. Slow is the key. Slow. And today i made scalloped potatoes with ham for OCB. In the midst of this, Kelly came with her two boys. She brought two dozen eggs and heartbreak. She had called, late last night, tears, and i said, come tomorrow and bring me eggs. She did. She's the age of my daughter. Her mother died a couple years ago of suicide. She Set Out, finding herself in New Mexico. she was born in Canada.
the boys occupied themselves. Thomas, the autistic child, wandered, in and out of the house, just looking. Noah brushed Goats and sifted sand through a screen, bring me the sifted sand saying….
feel this
Kelly told the story about how it's falling apart, her and her man. How she thinks she needs to Just Go to the land she owns south of here in San Marcial. Take her kids, her Goats, her Chickens and just go. She's not afraid to do that. Not afraid to do that alone. But she loves the man. But…….
such an old story, how many times repeated through the ages. Men/Women Confusion.
so i listened. said some stuff, but mostly listened. And as i am learning more and more by all i take IN fro Out There, it's the Listening that has Use and Goodness and Meaning. Let her say it. Over and over in all the ways it comes. Let her say it until it falls into some kind of place for her that she can imagine a Way to Just Go.
Tay was very GLAD for this kind of Sunday. She spun around the children and crept close, licking their skin and looking so closely at them, her nose so near whatever they were doing. Thomas who has the Autism could be heard inside the house as Kelly and i were outside, could be heard doing whatever it was, inside the house, making soft sounds. he has very little speech, mostly sounds.
one of the Native Plum, planted last spring. The one i was sure didn't make it. Wrong
maybe?
windthread 
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