Oh, I LOVED this story! So much is expected to be handed to us, isn't it? In a book or file or computer bit. But, its all about what you observe...the way the chair fits your back. The aroma of the room...they are all different. The light and how the dust motes dance in it. And how it changes minute by minute. And rain...the sound, the smell...the way it mixes with the earth and creates a new aroma. And the kindly face of the Storyteller who tells no stories, but lets them tell themselves. And it is enough.
Thank you, Zihna, for walking deeper into the room…one sense at a time…and for ending with the beautiful offering: “And it is enough,” simply leaving the cup on the table and allowing the silence to finish speaking. This gentle offering revealed that the story had become, however briefly, a place someone chose to dwell.
There is a quiet satisfaction in that which no number beside a heart can quite measure.
Years ago, when people would visit my home, they said it was a place people could come, take their shoes off, put their feet up on the table and go “ahhh”. That it was like a peaceful oasis. That’ how I feel reading your writing and “sitting in your chairs”. I understand what people were telling me all those years ago. My home still has peace…just very rare visitors.
Thank you, Monica. “A joy to dwell in.” I shall carry those words with me for a very long time. They are among the loveliest gifts these threads have received.
Just the truth, Joe. I have an inability to lie.
Oh, I LOVED this story! So much is expected to be handed to us, isn't it? In a book or file or computer bit. But, its all about what you observe...the way the chair fits your back. The aroma of the room...they are all different. The light and how the dust motes dance in it. And how it changes minute by minute. And rain...the sound, the smell...the way it mixes with the earth and creates a new aroma. And the kindly face of the Storyteller who tells no stories, but lets them tell themselves. And it is enough.
Thank you, Zihna, for walking deeper into the room…one sense at a time…and for ending with the beautiful offering: “And it is enough,” simply leaving the cup on the table and allowing the silence to finish speaking. This gentle offering revealed that the story had become, however briefly, a place someone chose to dwell.
There is a quiet satisfaction in that which no number beside a heart can quite measure.
❤️
Years ago, when people would visit my home, they said it was a place people could come, take their shoes off, put their feet up on the table and go “ahhh”. That it was like a peaceful oasis. That’ how I feel reading your writing and “sitting in your chairs”. I understand what people were telling me all those years ago. My home still has peace…just very rare visitors.
Thank you, Zihna. That is the finest compliment anyone could have offered…
And I loved that "crow" peeked in. ;-)
I'm planning a gallery show where all the pieces are unfinished. Wonder if anyone will get it???
If they leave wondering what still wants to happen, perhaps the work has already begun.
I wonder if Rabbit might wander through the gallery…
He would stand in front of an unfinished piece for a very long time.
Bear would eventually ask,
“Is this your favourite?”
Rabbit would shake his head.
“No.”
Another pause.
“It’s simply still introducing itself.”
It's all about interpretation, isn't it? How it speaks to us? Even the ones that do have words on paper!
Rabbit frowned thoughtfully at the biscuit.
“Interpretation…”
He rolled the word around as though tasting it.
“I suppose.”
Another pause.
“I’ve always thought it was more like recognition.”
Marilee looked puzzled.
Rabbit smiled.
“The cloth doesn’t become beautiful because you understand it.”
He gently straightened a crumb on the table.
“It becomes a companion because something in you quietly says…”
“…’Ah.”
“I know this place.’”
Your threads have become a remarkable joy to dwell in. Thank you.
Rabbit looked around the table.
He straightened a slightly crooked teacup.
“Well…”
He smiled.
“Then perhaps we’d better put the kettle on.”
Thank you, Monica. “A joy to dwell in.” I shall carry those words with me for a very long time. They are among the loveliest gifts these threads have received.