The sun-packed earth continues expelling earthworms onto the pavement and certain death. Sidestepping six of them, crusted and dark like wintry twigs, gave me pause during yesterday’s walk. Their wiggle-room hardening around them, they had bolted for a different milieu, only to be fried by the sun. Such mayhem ushered in the summer solstice last Sunday.

In a parallel sense, the inflamed media spews images of the hard and unyielding world around us, images contrived to undermine spirit and to incite fear. Like the earthworm in dire straights, we cast about for relief. But where do we go? How wrap words around our restlessness? Who or what can moisten our imagination, empower us to try something different?

There is a response to this madness. Within our sacred depths, moist gardens bloom with lantana, marigolds, Gerber lilies, and so much more; bold colors that hearten, that take a stand. Access to this inner realm requires daily cultivation with silence, with humility, and with truth. Through these practices, we learn to screw on our soaker hoses to the Source and thrive.

And like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace of King Nebuchadnezzar, we “walk in the heart of the flames, praising and blessing the Lord. Daniel 3:24

Note: This blog was composed before last weekend’s thunderstorms; their violence recreated wiggle-room for earthworms. We give thanks.

 

 

 

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