27/11/2025
In finding my stopping
I discover the soft and the quiet -
all but forgotten beneath the
malheur of the middleworld.
In the stopping is the ground -
temporarily lost - now, anchoring me
to the honest and authentic ground of belonging to the season of rotting leaves.
This cold, hardening earth tugging me down, drawing me in and upon which the delicate paws of a fox pick their way towards lean morsels.
The witnessing of this, in the moment of stopping, becomes my own sweet, rare morsel, savoured through the day as the sacred ground from which I feed.
Sweet, Rare Morsel - Rebecca Card