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Photo by Gail Harvey, no reproduction without permission
Divine Sunday Listening to: Wonderdrug, Jann Arden
I'm always thrown by the Daylight Savings interlude, and today was no different. I woke up an hour too early, thus denying my body the rumoured extra hour of sleep we're all supposed to get. Tonight, I'm down early to snag it anyway.
The cafe is now on week-ends only schedule-wise and while it was a little sad to close in the dusk and face a Monday unlike any I have known for months, I also breathed a huge sigh of relief. Next full season we are open 7 days, I think, and winter will be a gorgeous rest-period---packed with writing projects:)
There was a sense of accomplishment tonight as I walked out the door and retreated to the house to call FP. We had a very busy week-end and it was a delight.
Various sources of information and energy have made me think about writing. What it means and why we do it. Why people paint or make music or garden. It is because we are meant to connect with the divine. This is not news, of course, but while I've been connecting with the divine through soup for months, my other yearning has deepened. I wrote the other day for the first time in weeks and weeks, really experienced the transendence of it and had to ask myself some questions as a result. All else cannot come first. My fingers trolling through the alphabet: a soul-need, with me since childhood.
Tomorrow is Sleep Day, and Tuesday is all about playing with words. Toronto will be wild and scary for my newly ruralized soul but I can't wait to be a tourist---and have dinner with you like always and BC: Before Cafe;). FRESH, here I come!
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