Flow Of The Best Kind

The soothing sound of rain on the roof gently woke me from my early morning sleep. Another deep soaker had come, painting the greens deep, dripping from the edges, seeping and puddling into the earth. The morning light was muted, like an old painting mellowed over time. The air was cool. 

In bare feet, I stepped over a soundly sleeping Maggie Mae and tiptoed to the quiet kitchen. The sound of water rushing in the creek met me at the open window. I struck a match and lit a candle. Sleepily, I stood at the sink and drank my greens while listening to dawn’s twittering song, while watching as rain drops landed, slid, and lazily fell from the flower petals in the window box. 

I took a few days when I returned from my recent travels to just be. (Somehow, I never think I need this, but, indeed, I really do.) To wake when the birds rouse me. To curl up on the sofa and gaze out the window. To sit in the shade by the creek in the afternoon and close my eyes. To let the days spool out. When you normally have to be on top of everything, it’s nice, for a moment, to not be on top of anything.

Interestingly, it was in this slower place that ideas came, one after the other, a flow of the best kind. I kept up with them as best I could, corralling them with my pencil between pages of notebook paper. Sleepy ideas that I’d been poking at for months were suddenly there, fully and beautifully alive and complete. And I marveled at how that is, how a rested mind is an abundant mind. 

Loves, I’ve been secretly working on something in slips of time here and there for a few months now, and it’s nearly ready to share with you. The ideas that came from that restful place were the final pieces fitting into place. I’m excited about what the near future holds for you and me!