The moments I cherish most aren’t all sunsets and crickets on a summer evening, the silence of a winter forest or mornings in the kayak because there are nothing but cherishable moments then. It’s this moment I cherish most, the one I might so easily have overlooked, me leaning against a blue pillow, writing in green ink, my cat nearby on a brown blanket, looking at me with increasingly sleepysmilingeyes; the contentment of ginger tea in a rooster mug, Anam Cara waiting to be opened at random for a sliver of random magic, of inspiration…
…as if the ginger tea and cat’s eyes weren’t enough.
♥
Matilda Magtree 
As if, indeed.
I don’t have a copy of Anam Cara at hand, so I opened his Echoes of Memory to a random page and was rewarded with this:
Under the frame
of their stubborn farm
a stream has catacombed,
won echo-room
to hear its pilgrim mind
decipher the intention
of freed fossiled stone
I just happen to live on a stubborn farm with a stream catacombed below it, so if that’s not magic I don’t know what is. Now off to make some ginger tea, with which I’ll toast John, and you, and your cat. xo
You. You, are the magic. I love the connections you are part of, the yeast… xo
YES.. Ah, yes. Thank you. Thank you. Beautiful soul. He is one I read, re-read. Read again. Like you, a poet singing of truth and beauty in words. This image is all.
I took the book with me every time I went out in the kayak and would just park it the reeds (the reads?) and bliss out. So that feeling is now infused in it. Thank you, dear Sheree. Your words are all. xo