No, not really. Although it feels cold enough in my house to sustain a ski slope (no insulation in this barny 1913 gem,
brrrrrr, not enough money to actually heat it this winter), I'm mainly just down under the big pile of papers and other
duties (like planning my daughter's birthday party) that are sucking all available time. I promise. The silence series will
continue with more and better reflections than this little blurt, but I'll share a quote to think about before
I go down waving for the third time:
From Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams:
"In a world of silence, all becomes sign...images of ducks above whose feathers floated to earth as a kind of hoarfrost that built up like a veining of feathers on a ship's rig."
One of the things that I find myself missing most is the space in which to contemplate the Mystery. I want to
let the signs fill me up, so that I can puzzle on them like so many treasures kept in my heart. Silence is a
pocket in a child's coat, not so much empty as filled with daily curiousities.
I hope you are having better luck than I am in getting yourself some peace.