I've discovered silence has a sound - an energy alive with possibilities punctuated by the tick of the clock. It takes quiet to hear the silence. It's a living thing this silence where wonder and imagination roam with eyes wide open to the space to which it lives.
My eyes travel over the folds of a soft red blanket and wonder who was comforted in its wrap. The sunlight falls on a pile of books with leather bindings that long to be touched and explored. The way the green fern falls on an earthen pot with a loving touch intrigues me.
In the quiet everything is alive with story. I sit in the midst of my heart with tears of thankfulness for being alive to the simple joys of light and shadow of colors and textures that caress my sense of being in the midst of transcendence.
In The Blessing House I want time to slow down as rich syrup is poured over steaming pancakes. A space out of synch with the frenetic lives of today. I want people to walk into a time warp where the old is present and the future collapsed into the moment of now.