Full Circle

Today I was trying to make the most of the day.  A day to recuperate, revive myself.  I love having Thursdays off because I get to hang out with my knitting friends.  The afternoon knitting group, it's really a fibre arts group because there are crocheters, spinners, wool felters etc. that participate, it is at the Gaspereau Valley Fibres Wool Shop.  It's also a working Cotswold sheep farm.  So on my walk from the car to the shop, chickens often traverse my path, sheep and Llamas graze in the field.  I can smell the barn smells and hear the farm noises.  Those smells and noises bring me back to earth.  Ground me.  The shop is filled with beautiful colors, textures, chattering women's voices and clicking needles.  I could close my eyes and just listen, but it's infecting, those stories and conversations and I have to join in, connect.  I always seem to be closest to the wood stove, sitting on the outside looking into the circle.  Where I've always been most comfortable, but someone always leaves a spot in the circle for me.  Everyone should be this lucky.

Pay It Forward

Do you remember last year when I received a random act of kindness from a stranger,  it was five dollars at the gas station.  Anyway, I held on to that five dollars in a special spot in my wallet and it grew.  I recently met a young lady who was fundraising for a trip with a wonderful Canadian youth program,  and so I passed it on.  I feel like she will pay it forward somehow, through kindness, or monetarily, it doesn't really matter.  That small act grows as it goes and I can still feel it out there.

Have a great day everyone!
Dawn

Dance

My coffee shop is quiet this evening.  I was just reading the "Random Acts Of Kindness" column in "The Grapevine".  There is a quote that I fell in love with:

While I dance, I cannot judge,
I cannot hate,
I cannot separate from my life.
I can only be joyful and whole.
That is why I dance.

By Hans Bes

That is so true, I challenge you to try it.

Good morning
By Dawn Illsley

Roaring wind lulls me to another place.
Quiet breathing in the margins of my mind.
Pressing thoughts, bossy and demanding,
yank me from my reprieve to reality.

There's a call for spring outside the window.
An urgent call from a little bird whose hungry.
Then out comes the sun,  like a little answered prayer.

The light creeps across the room,
Warming the spot on the floor,
Soon to be occupied
By a little furry beast,
Desperate for warmth.

On the windowsill,
The pink blooms are dried up,
Not the end,
But it seems hopeful for more.