I always get the sense that when I do not write for a few days, it’s because I’m looking for a longer view of life. What comes to me in the moment of each new day has a certain feel of immediacy, in which my vision of life can easily be satisfied by a happenstance preponderance on the tiniest of details.

When early days of summer come, I see many small–but great–events that surround me and keep me fascinated. Little flowers spring forth, for example, from bulbs I had thoughtfully anticipated with a spirit of hope when I inserted them into the ground just last fall. I completely forget about what I contributed to the bounty of the earth.

When I see, while I am out watering and looking for beholden promises, that seeds and bulbs have burst forth overnight, I find such delight in knowing that my efforts, combined with my simple dreams, have been realized. Then I am able to feel the glory of life.

I love how it is that flower seeds that I had forgotten about have not forgotten me. Politicians may have made unreal promises concerning my future well-being, as well as promises to those about me–the circle of neighbors, friends, and family–the people close by that make my world the one that I understand, and desire to live and grow in. I listen to elected leaders, however, with only half a heart, and sometimes far less–with a questioning heart.

When I perceive this great futility, this dark, non-specific chasm, between what I hear from power-filled voices and from what is actually occurring in the world of people, I go numb for words and ideas, and my spirit becomes suspended. I know then that something, perhaps a force outside of myself, must come forth to enter and awaken me, some sort of undefined revelation for which I have need, but have not been looking.

I’m sure that others, not just me, want to find a predictable peace residing on the surface of the earth, a birth right; one that was given at the beginning, which allows everyone to easily navigate deep within, and form a uniquely artistic life that is satisfying, enduring, and stable. I’m always on the look-out for signs and glimpses of the eternal bliss of happiness.

I search for instances of those ideals I was born with, instilled in before the first year of my life; those into which I am allowed to grow and acquire understanding, as I spin my years on earth. I intuit a perception of reality that is baked into me before I left the womb, one that I believe will cover, protect, and preserve me, as I move on from sacred infancy into the fullness of living, the beautiful life that I rightfully expect as inheritance.

As I grow from child innocence and learn how much strife is involved with this process called living, I am repulsed and want to revert back to that time when all was easy and comprehensible, that time when all I was taught and understood made complete sense to me. I find favor in looking back to that early wisdom. I continue to look for it the rest of my life, for that innate sense of truth, wisdom, and beauty.

I have never let go of what I knew when young to be the right course for myself and for all of humanity. I’ve heard from others that the devil is in the details, and that God is in the details. This causes me to want to not look at the broad and common things in the culture for answers to the disturbing perplexities, but to see the tiniest of details, like how it is that seeds can sprout from mysterious soil.

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