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