Hands and Heart

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As the morning light crests the rimrock to the east I stir in bed and wake with the energy of a child.  This day is mine, I say quietly.  Opening myself to this newness, the birth of a rising sun, a purity and light that I let sink deep into my rested body .  A day that smells of mountain snow, wind riddled with desert sage and the exhaling of the river below.  This smell is this days’ alone.

A continuity and rhythm to life is not easy to find.  I decide I will let this day unfold just as a new plant gently opens to face the sun as it journeys across the sky.  I will let instinct drive my decisions, letting my heart lead my hands.

I take my morning coffee by the river.  I silently watch the dancing of light, rising and falling, soaring and skipping, an undulation of life broken only by the arrival of a flock of Canadian geese.  This river is my gift.

As I walk back up the hill to the house, I take a moment to remember the importance of the items I keep in my home.  I recently had a friend comment that she was trying to replace all material items in her life with hand-made goods.  While these items still have a material aspect, they have a different meaning.  A wisdom of hands and heart.  Unique only to the maker.  I believe a bit of the maker is passed on to the receiver, an importance easily overlooked.  I like to think about the homes my items go to.  I hope they know those items are filled with my heart and my touch.

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I gently run my hands over my collections of skulls and bones and feathers.  Items I am gifted as I journey along this unbeaten path I call life.  I take a moment to think about where they have been, and what they have seen.  Each life is so different.  The decisions made, the path taken, the cells we are made of, a primalness written in our souls.

An eagerness awaits me as I snap a few photos and think of the coming days.  I have so many visions and ideas to bounce around.  Put pencil to paper.  Let my hands lead my heart.

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Wishing you all a BEAUTIFUL weekend, spooling you some of my Idaho river light. XX

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