Tuesday, December 1, 2015
In the morning, when my heart hurts from all the pain in the world, I go outside and fill a fountain. I fill a bucket with cold water and then carry it across the yard. Birds are waiting in the trees and behind the prickly pear for the the fountain's trickling cascade, its shallow pools. As I pour out the bucket, I think of friends who are in trouble, who are hurting. Bodies need health care, minds need counseling, spirits need comforting, money is short or nonexistent, staying alive appears the second choice. Lives are crashing and burning all around me. It helps me to start the day by filling the fountain. Quail, owls, hawks, doves, javelina are all waiting for water, sweet, precious water. I am lucky enough to know how to coax it up out of the earth and into this bucket. Sharing it helps the heart to beat another time, and another, on into the rest of the waiting day.