Finally I saw
that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up.
And took my old body
and went out into the morning
and sang. -Mary Oliver
Not only does this poet priestess stop me in my tracks to reconnect and ground in a way of being and seeing especially in these times, her sacred scribe reminds me that I am not alone. This cowgirl, artist of life with bountiful gifts to give and just as much delightfulness to charm and amuse companions of open hearts, has the same effect on me. A pause to document her “Victory Brood” made of earth and water and always a touch of His grace and all that glorious stuff we forget…a little reminder to head out this morning in song or on a saddle.
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