A New York paramedic said this is a war with an invisible bullet. A world war where one cannot see the enemy. Some days after a writing session I wander into my garden. Another passion. When I am engaging with the land I get completely lost in what I am doing. Hours pass. Lately I have been thinking about seeds. There is something so hopeful about them. Planting seeds is like an antidote. It is saying that I can feed myself, that there is a future, and that I am the creator of my own world. It is a slow meditation that is out of beat with time. It takes me to the real news of there being much to be grateful for with the miraculous unfurling of leaves. Seeds need time to do what they do. As I stir the earth and plant, a deep calm takes up residence.
