Thank You.

The path stretched on for miles and lazily followed the swollen banks of a flooded river, the current furiously churning with the Ides of March. The day's cold front had excoriated every last cloud from the sky, so that the sun washed over us in uninhibited streams. The air clung to winter's frost, but the sun would have none of it, and radiated its heat back up through my toes from the warmed asphalt. We walked for hours and it was as if I stayed just one pace behind, the constant dialogue in my mind drawing correlations and taking measurements.

The birds called to each other from the tree tops, the wind scattered the forest's carpet of decaying leaves and my mind was consumed with the memory of another walk, around a lake, seemingly ages ago, and the perfection that can be contained in the simplest of moments when you line yourself up with the universe's desires. When you stop over-thinking and allow yourself to just. be. happy.

Mid-conversation at lunch my ears perked up and, unbelievably, our honorable mention song came on over the restaurant's speakers. Over the din of the lunch rush and the cackling of the ladies at the next table I was transported to another place. An elevator, the same song coming on, and me being amazed and explaining that it was part of the mix I had made. Music dropped like little signs, little reminders that I am not alone, and that there is Someone, always looking out.

Mitakuye Oyasin, by your grace.

The sun made my car look like a fire-red Valkyrie and when I climbed into it I had a renewed feeling of self-sufficiency, a remembered belief in myself. I have so much to proud of and grateful for, unqualified. In John it says, There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear.

Amen. Here's to the remembering, and to the Divine Hand which never fails to remind.