I'm getting ready to take a few days off for rest, reflection, and relaxation. It's been a heavy pull with the new work over the last two months, and some time for being still feels welcome.
The last time I was in the pool, I watched leaves gently fall to the water as I moved rhythmically, back and forth, length by length. An easy wind moved across the water. The other day I was driving through a forested area, and red and golden tinged leaves on small trees gave me pause again to reflect on this theme. How quickly the days of summer pass, how the light builds, levels off, and then begins to diminish once again. How fleeting are the flowers in the blossoming, and how quickly green stems become brown. How quickly weeds spread in the garden after a few days of rain.
The funny thing is we don't always notice while it's happening, but only once this movement has advanced, until it's undeniable.
Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a (near) daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.
Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.
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