O pity to the held back, the weighed down, the blocked. They struggle and strain, yet do not find what they seek.

Do I not fret and press against the walls of the box canyon? Am I the one weighed down?

As I lay upon the ground, I felt buoyed, as if I could float away. And yet when I rise from here, I carry my old friend, woe.

Let me stop seeking; let me see what I have found already.

(Letter #3,799)

The field has turned to dry stalks; delicate crystal. Where once a creek trickled, now I walk along a newly cleared path of stones and meander.

This is the time to get through.

The stores will once again be full; the rains will pour down; the river will rush, bed hidden under froth.

Today, can I love the dry grass?

Let me love today, Lord.

(Letter #3,798)

Sun, O sun! Glow, shine, burn!

What do my actions amount to, underneath your steady gaze?

What could matter more?

Let me make the day count.

(Letter #3,797)

A late night fire in a clearing; in the morning, ashes and smolder.

In the dawn light, the peering eyes of the forest are pinecones and dewy leaves.

Vision is a power. Light is a power. awakening is a power. Accepting grace — a power.

Let me give freely of what I find, Lord.

(Letter #3,796)

Measured in moments. Each fleeting and forever.

I forget myself and time flies; I fret and time drags.

Lord, let me live this day fully, each forever moment. Let me live awake.

(Letter #3,795)

I expect the sun to rise, the creek to flow, the moon to wax and wane.

I expect the birds to nest, the spider to weave.

The wind to blow and whip.

What constancy, Lord, shall I expect of myself? That I rise with regular habits and dutifully perform my chores? That I am always strong? Such a heavy load.

Is it not enough that I breathe, and feel my feet on the ground?

Let me seek wonder.

(Letter #3,794)

I walk the meadow. I have compassion for the grass underfoot, the creatures that scurry from my footsteps, the upended lives as I walk through spiderwebs.

I meant no wrong.

Lord, grant me compassion for myself, too.

(Letter #3,793)

I am water.

We are water.

Cool, slow, powerful rush, sun warms and we become vapor. Heavy downpour.

Rush around the rocks. Ripples from the pebble.

Thank you, Lord, for water.

Letter #3,792

O sun! O breeze!

Warm air on my skin.

Where could the day take me? Where could my feet take me?

Lord of possibility, grant me a willing walk.

(Letter #3,791)

Am I awake, Lord? Truly awake?

Could I ask if I were not?

Grant me awareness, Lord.

(Letter #3,790)