Partially just laziness, guys, and the causes of it: much to do by way of writing; working two or three projects + researching; the weather, muggy, and warm (though not nearly as hot as in the plains), conducive to a great deal of sleeping; the heart wants to meander like our stream, arrange things in the house, play in the garden — we’re putting down local dark grey slate in the pathways. Secondly, internet connectivity, though I must admit it hasn’t bothered me though I have used it as an excuse to do less and less! Thirdly, a sense that I’m just talking about myself here — why should anyone else be interested? I’m not helping anyone, which is always my intention. I have a bit of priestess gene in me which I sometimes rebel again, but return to unerringly.

I leave for the city tomorrow — I have postponed it long enough. Have been here five weeks, but now my mother is calling and I must go. She gets lonely, and I do nurture her in many ways. I have to admit I haven’t wanted to go, being quite plugged into our life here. The wild pink rose vines are just beginning to come on; they are everywhere in our home, wrapped around boulders and stone walls; the garden is full of poppies and all sorts of flowers I have no names for; the stream, its volume reduced due to the heat, is just personal and intimate enough to step in and wade through, something P and I did yesterday. No, I don’t want to go, but I must. It is part of my resolve to not resist any part of life, and to be forever ready to change gears in whatever direction needed. This makes life much easier, this surrender to circumstance; it is what all religions call submission. Believe me when i say that this also makes like a load of fun; by resisting too much you cut yourself off my life; you live by your ego and your own stubborn will. But with submission life becomes a mystery, a miracle, and an adventure.

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