really. What ARE we, but stories.
There are so many words that crowd around, looking for place, to TELL.
Old Cowboy. Annette, the Hospice Nurse. Bill, Alz B's son. They each have stories.
Mitch and Karen, his across the street neighbors.
All of us have stories and many, i don't even know. Probably never will.
Why do we Continue?
a very small piece of weaving that Jude sent somewhere along the line and this last week when i was dusting the Altar i didn't put it back flat and here it looks really, like a being of some kind and i could make a story of that too
But i came home today, worn out, and sat. Thinking about all the stories, mine included that i could WRITE, TELL.
But that REALLY, Metta.
May we be safe
May we be happy
May we be healthy
May we live
live
live with
ease.
The stories are wonderFULL and GOOD and yes, but what it comes down to is Metta. I am beginning to live inside Metta.
GO LOOK. juliestockler.blogspot.com threadingthedog.blogspot.com







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