Tell the story of a silence. The silence I do my best to avoid, or fill, shout over, with music, TV, phone calls, every day after work. There is the silence of living alone. It is the reason my cat talks to himself in the hallway, the reason on warm sunny days I open the windows and patio doors so the sounds from the street below can fill this silence.

When the weather changes I first feel it in my feet. Then my calves and hamstrings will tighten up, that is if the rain is coming in and the temperature drops. But if the sun comes out and the breeze is slight enough that in combination with the warm temperatures it becomes a cooling breeze, these are the days my legs want to go to the park and watch the river flow. It is a big river so you have to watch it closely to see it move as a whole. Such a thought dazzles me, this body of water rolling down hill, always.

The song of Hiawatha was that of following the river to the ocean. To surrender to the current of life, and trust the unfolding of experience. To be okay with the thought that a force much greater than myself saw it fit for the river to roll the way it does and might have a purpose or two for the way things go for me. What I fight and what I accept,

Time promised me a favor. I had a hand full of thoughts to share but Timmy and his tyrannosaurus have buried them in the back yard. When I asked him why they did that he told me because he could see these thoughts were only getting in my way, and I would be better served without those thoughts. But they were my thoughts I told him.

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[Ccarolr]

"I don't know why it is we are in such a hurry to get up when we fall down. You might think we would lie there and rest a while."