I've been travelling since 7am on Sunday morning. The days have been busy and long and interspersed with laughter and the joy of great friends. There are decisions to be made (who am I kidding, decision was made by Tuesday) and much to be done in the readying.

I've always been happiest when following roads less travelled.

I like it when I find touch with old friends, regardless of how far away they might be. I wish it were easier to know each other in the context of our now worlds. I guess it is the price you pay for growing up and finding your own path.

I just decided that I am going to be content. Decided this morning actually.


Already I feel so much lighter.

The Secret of Life

"There are things you do

because they feel right &

they make no sense

& they may make no money

& it may be the real reason we are here:

to love each other &

to eat each other's cooking &

say it was good."

Brian Andreas

While yogaing tonight I had a beautiful experience. Posing in front of a wall of mirrors I experienced a complete acceptance of my imperfections. I wonder if we aren't time beings more than human beings. Life is good.

It happened sometime on Friday in the afternoon. He went down into the cellar to make on a fire just to take the chill off the old house, spring days can feel damp and cold in the Maritimes.

He got it all ready. Just like he had done thousands of times before. Showing the same care and patience, I am sure. Crumpling the paper, spliting the kindling, picking out a few choice pieces of well dried maple - the same maple he himself had cut and split and ranked in long straight rows just the spring before.

Just before lighting, he took a rest. At 92 he sat his bones down on a round end and leaned against the woodpile. He has not ceased to rest.

He was one of the greats.
You too would have been richer had you known him.

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately,

to front only the essential facts of life,

and see if I could not learn what it had to teach,

and not, when I came to die,

discover that I have not lived.”
Henry David Thoreau