A Quiet Moment in Between

Today is a day of retreating within, of seeking out and dwelling in the moments in between.

I'm drowning in quiet sensations...the warm, golden glow of lights hanging on my wall; the hushed stillness woven with the thrum of air conditioning; the faint, woodsy scent of sandalwood and citrus, rich and light all at the same time; the soft plushness of a blanket wrapped around me like a cocoon, as if imbued with the elusive magical ability to keep me safe + hidden from tears and the real world; the delicate strains of John William's The Book Thief soundtrack, slipping into the so very gentle notes of the Becoming Jane soundtrack, each note falling softly like a golden drop of sunlight and peace.

Words and thoughts flutter through my mind, tumbling and rising like leaves swirling in a breeze...the English countryside, familiar old books, threadworn cardigans, steaming vanilla tea, golden wooden staircases winding upwards, philosophy, flickering candles, unfolding myths, theology and the Incarnation, sunlit trees, hobbit holes, flying into clouds with pixie dust, pen against paper, faded spines of treasured books...

The warmth of a hand against one's shoulder, the crinkling around kind eyes that smile, the lilting cadence of poetry murmured over a fire beneath the deep and dark starry night, the heaviness of limbs, the quiet rise and fall of one's breath in an endless cycle, the deepening sense of fall and nearing winter, the dance of words against the page, the dizzying complexities of thought and emotions swirled together, the terrifying sensation of growing up, the resolve to always be young and merry at heart.