05 May 2011

reverence.

While reading the last of The Red Tent along the shores of Como Lake tonight with the sun setting in the distance, this passage claimed my thoughts for a good while:

"After my return, I never fully lost my reverence for ordinary pleasures. I arose before Benia to study his face and breathed silent prayers of thanks. Walking to the water fountain or pulling weeds in the garden, I was overcome by the understanding that I had spent a whole day without the weight of the past crushing my heart. Birdsong brought me to tears, and every sunrise seemed a gift shaped for my eyes."

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