Reading the Book of Life

Rambling around the neighborhood, I took this photo of a young girl reading. It is never too late to read the book of life, for it is timeless, just as our essence is.

Although I am growing older, my essence is ever-young. It pauses to reflect on the moment that cannot be captured except by the heart.

Last night I sat with old family photos on my lap, realizing that reality is more than a bunch of pictures. Oh, they kindle some poignancy in me, but they cannot bring the past back to life.

Love lingers around me although I forget this most of the time. I think I am this body/mind and usually rue how it is doing. Silly me.

Fall is doing its job of housecleaning. The leaves spin as they fall to the deck and backyard. Someone said to watch a single leaf falling can be ecstatic. Might as well give it a try.

Theo asks me to locate where the sense of “I am” is located in the body. I don’t have an answer for that, of course. Might as well ask me to locate love.

Vicki Woodyard


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