For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven
–Ecclesiastes 3:1
Harvest. Gather. Gratitude. Bounty. Gifts. Curiosity. Beauty.
The beauty in receiving and being given.
Sparkle of discovery.
Finding the lost and glittering jewel.
One asks: “What is it that I have to give?
Is it fear that locks the doing?”
Let us harvest in confidence….
mine to yours, yours to mine—in good will.
What holds us back?
The little can be multiplied.
Crumbs into loaves.
Pebbles into bridges.
Remnants of thread into garments.
Perfection can come from the flawed, and yet, perfection, for its own sake, can thwart the freedom of spontaneity. The stream of beauty cannot be dammed forever.
What is given must be shared.
What is started must be finished.
The long winter—
It seems even the snowmelt, the first vernal sprouts, the blast of summer sun did not persuade the winter to budge. But suddenly, the softest glimmer of light upon the open-harvest-meadow signals….
perhaps, that inmost season of winter has departed.
What love is this? The bounty is plentiful, lush in sustenance. Is it enough to fill the sorrow and frozen valleys of the past?
Why does one cling to the cold?
The softest sigh of autumn whispers a letting go…
to accept,
to receive,
to be.
Walk then, amid the swollen fruits and rich grasses. Breathe the ripe scent of abundance that will heal the stark depletions of time. The colors are deep and many, the textures as varied as the landscape. Taste the sweetness of what is gifted.
Then, share your heart.
“Only love can be divided endlessly and still not diminish.”
–Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Thanks for stopping by. ♥