The Tender Soil

Good Mornin'

Well, overcast and cool, cool; snow showers, off and on through the night, but nothin' on the ground.

Been occurrin' ta me, over the past few days, some a the stories that come out in the course a writin', how life really is a sort of treasure hunt. And, it's possible, if ya remember that comment I made about "what we're doin' here" and how it gets so abused, that there really is an important "clue" there. What I mean is, the reason that question is and can be so often and easily abused, is 'cause something inside of us humans, really perks up at the mention. And, the math is simple, somewhere inside, we KNOW that's important; really, really relevant.

The problem comes, when it's called to the front, again and again and offered a bad answer; answers that turn out ta serve someone or somethin' else, and not the call of the heart. And, by now, so many generations past, here on Mother Earth, and that question, so abused, we have by and large become a culture of "foxes"; the one that walked away, decidin' the "grapes" were surely sour, and we'll just have to settle for less.

But, the math IS simple and the clues ARE laid out. The voices that call, "over here, over there", forget; somethings are good ta give up. But, that quiet voice within' that seeks and hopes, that part of us that knows and figures, sooner or later, the taste of a "bad apple", same part of us knows the question is important, it must know a whole lot more, or it wouldn't know a good answer from bad!

See what I mean; this is a wonderful situation. There's a whole bunch a "knowin'" goin' on. It's possible, we've just been lookin' at the "no" side and missin' the "know" side of it. And, I guess, this is what brings me back to St. Exupery's line, again and again; "ones sees clearly, only with the heart; anything essential, invisible to the eye.". There's a kind of seein's, more like feelin'.

There's a great story of a farmer, worked hard and made a lot of money. Shortly before his passin' he converted it to gold, put it in a box and buried it in his field. Just before he passed, he called his children and told them, "I am leaving you with something very precious; I am leaving you with my farm. Plow the fields and you will become rich beyond your dreams!". Some of the children left, disgusted; went to town and got a job. The ones that stayed, accepted the simplicity of the farm, plowed the field, the spade running back and forth below the humble earth, came upon an "answer", like the promise, buried within the tender soil.

Woke up this mornin' imaginin' the feel of the spade, runnin' through the soil; maybe day after day, just turnin' the earth. And, what it must a felt like, that day, when that spade hit a box.

Maybe you could say, we all give up; but, some give up and walk away, some give up and stay. Maybe the difference, only one consideration; "that promise was givin' with love; I don't see and I don't understand, but I'll try. I will run that spade, through that simple soil, and I'll do it for two reasons; one, gold or not, it's beautiful in it's own right. And two, all said and done, it's the only lovin' answer, to such a lovin' promise!". Rich upon riches.

Have a great day!

Best,