In that blustery morning; in that blustery warm wind morning; the frustrated mis-match of this 'cool' day in November to the reality of the hot east wind that sets the day on edge is the same. A confused set of images and experiences that are jarring in the dawn.
When even kindness must conspire to be kind. Conspiring kindness ... that which has to hide and work in a group to emerge in the world. That, like the winter seed, lay quiet for awhile before breaking out into sun. For, the earth is dry. The rain is not falling. It is that time between.
So, it is not the mire. It is not overwhelmed. It is not the mis-match. It is just the wind. It is just the warm air. It is just the dawn. It is the time when the trees have lost some leaves. It is the time when the harvest is in. It is the time when the ground rests between crops. It is that moment when, in that time between. We live between. As a seed, planted, in the time after the planting and before the breaking forth. The planting has happened. Now the winter time, the blanket over, the silent snowy ground can lay fallow. In this, no snow, dry hot wind and the jarring is just the 'expectation' that is blown away on the warm wind.
At rehearsal last night... in a person passing through, "I don't know how you all accomplish anything...." After the laughter settled down, we worked through tune number... 10. Hmmm, focused laughter and fun leads directly into the rising song line. The harmony line follows... Something in that joy.
Appreciate the 15 to 22, you know who you are. It is that grace and welcome eye on the tapping that is so, very, very appreciated.
When a process is polluted by some part that is not appropriate to the process, then there is that moment that is just ... Issue, facts, analysis, and finally a recommendation.
This frame allows the other parts of the process, the decision parts to engage. Just the facts....
Now it is afternoon. Doesn't that make you smile? The morning, all done in by work, and laughter, and play... ;;;; just throw some other punctuation in the pot. Now it is afternoon and the day, the soup that is the day, is well shaken, stirred, heated and eaten. Now it is afternoon. Lunch time.