Hello friends! I sit here at EQ (I really should start calling it Caffvino someday soon, but it is hard to bring myself to. One day) and am enjoying just a little time to rest and perhaps write before I walk back home and begin some dinner prep. I am a bit saddened that although it is most certainly November – and late November at that! – somehow it is still fairly hot and humid and not at all reminiscent of autumn. Where is my crisp cold weather? Where is the blustery wind and the grey skies that make my heart sing and eyes brighten as I consider that winter is nigh? Alas it seems I shall have to wait a little longer. It does seem as if perhaps this next week – Thanksgiving week! – we may get some decent weather. I do hope.

Now that I’ve gotten the weather talk out of my system, what else shall I discuss? I feel as if I ought use this time to write about something of note but as often happens, when I have the time I now feel antsy and wonder if I ought go for a walk instead. The tragedy!! Well, I shall sit here a bit longer and decide if I can summon up the muse. (No of course not. That’s not how muses work)

So topic switch? I don’t think it would be amiss if I simply state how grateful I am to God for all He has done in my life. Too often do I let my thoughts and emotions run amok as I think on all the things that could or might go wrong (or even the things that have!) and let myself spiral into the depths of despair. Have you ever felt such? I think so for I feel it is a pretty universal experience but of course there are some who would say they have no idea what I’m talking about. Some may say it is useful to imagine things differently than they really are (or is this also a concept my gentle reader is unfamiliar with?) but rather than dwell in unreality and imagination (not that I am demeaning a healthy and vibrant imagination, by no means!), I would urge something different. Instead of spending our time in the hazy mists of the unreal to comfort ourselves as we sit in the midst of the grimy everyday, instead ought we consider what is truly Real?

And that is the trick, is it not? How might we encounter the truths of reality even in the midst of the fogs through which we grope? Can we even say there is such a thing as absolute truth? Or is all contingent upon one’s own space in this matrix of the universe? These are philosophical questions which I freely admit I do not quite have the mental acuity to fully comprehend. Yet at the end of the day I do and will say that I believe there are truths that exist that are real and might be known. I might even say that these truths have been revealed to us who have been granted the grace to lift our eyes and with new eyes see. Hence why I love to use my (mid-tier) writing skills to dance through the swirls of the imagination to connect with the concrete substance of the true. This spark of creativity burns, small but bright. I freely confess I fail far too often to write anything worthy. Oh how common it is that I scribble some words upon the page which are both sparse of beauty and bare of truth. Yet sometimes, I do sense a hand upon my shoulder and as I consider the stars above and the One who knows them all by name, I write with an inner fire that well speaks to the faith that I so cling to. It is naught of me and naught of anything I have done. Instead, if there is a pattern of the beautiful in this weaving I have done, it must speak to a deeper and richer reality than these eyes now see. I now close my eyes and dream.