I have a favorite tea cup, one that melds to my hand, glazed in earth-tone colors making it appealing to the eye. I cherish it. Love to put boiling water and loose Rice Pudding tea in it to steep. I am pleased, and, at times, restored.
A friend and I walked a labyrinth today. An eleven-circuit labyrinth haloed with lavender. Even with all the snow, the lavender tinted the air with its scent. We walked in silence, crunching through the snow, one foot after another, until we reached the center.
I hear my oldest son playing piano, a new song he's learned that he renders with little effort. His fingers grace the piano keys as if he's played before, but he hasn't. I'm amazed at his talent and intuitiveness.
I was conversing with a friend the other day, and our conversation lingered on possibility and fear.
What do we do when we have a passion for something other than what we're currently doing? Do we take the risk and cultivate our passion? Or do we stay "safe" and plod along with what's secure, even though we're malnourished and laboring in monotony?