This past weekend I started a new chapter in my life; an old closed and a new begun.

Details are unimportant, but the internal energy expended to navigate the emotions around the ending of the old and the starting of the new, left me spent.

So today I lean into a poem in a dog-eared little collection that rarely leaves my side.


Today I'm flying low and I'm

not saying a word.

I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,

the bees in the garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnat getting eaten.

And so forth.

But I'm taking the day off.

Quiet as a feather.

I hardly move though really I'm traveling

a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors

into the temple.

(Mary Oliver - A Thousand Mornings)

Yes, you voodoos of ambition, you. Sleep!

Today, stillness - one of the doors into the temple - holds sway.