Stepping Stones

20th August 2012 Monday

Spikey yellow gorse, bright mauve bell heather thrown all over the hillside like a Kaffe Fassett cushion cover. We are walking high up on a ridge - can’t see it through the blanket of trees but can hear the River Dart rushing along below. The sun in a blue and white sky is burning my neck. 

Looks like I’m just walking along a path with my husband on a late summer morning - we could be middle aged holidaymakers on Dartmoor. But actually I’m practising a silent surrendering with each step. I gave up my mostly home-alone plans today when my husband’s day out was cancelled. This walk is my suggestion.

So I guess letting go of something cherished means being willing to let in something unknown - like the possibility of joy. Like today by the river, holding my husband’s hand while we jump over stepping stones in the clear rust red water to reach the  bank on the other side. Not worrying about getting my shoes wet. One surrendered foot in front of the other.