I have been absent from this site for quite some time.  Yes, sending a missive to an old, worn, post box.  I love rust and age and faded colors as they are signs of use and adventure and wisdom gained therein.  I send a love letter from afar and months of silence.  I hope you might take it gently out of it’s envelope and listen in to the words written therein.

Part of that empty mail box has been because I do many other things, though the largest part of it is that, in the last year and several months, the amount of human and natural crises and concomitant “news reporting,” Facebook commenting and “Twitter OMGing” about all of them, had begun to reach deafening proportions.  I chose, deliberately, to “go quiet” and to explore, at a different level, how to be “in the world but not of the world.”  That is a daunting task for anyone seeking their own path:  those searching for “The Way” for themselves as individuals.  It is, indeed, the way that cannot be named  by anyone else but our own authentic selves.  That authentic self finds its way in the rhythms and laws of nature.  Within our “civilized” culture, it is most often shattered, fragmented and stifled in service to a need to create an enormous amount of human “noise” that drowns out the sounds of the flowing stream outside of our very own doors, the light that sifts through aspen leaves in Fall, the smell of wood smoke drifting from our own and neighbor’s wood stoves, and the sensations of a warm down comforter enveloping us in her folds on cold nights.  It is to the latter I have retreated for some time in order to re-gain and maintain my own reality of intimate relationship with Nature and The Way that cannot be named, but only felt at the internal, ambient light level.

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