the garden visit

She was standing outside the window watching me from the garden. I had caught a glimpse earlier and closed my eyes for a bit to be sure I was seeing. I sometimes wonder if seeing more means I am getting better or worse in my workings. This used to never happen and now it is happening with increasing frequency. So is it better because I am more receptive or worse because I am not always in control of the ins and outs? Does it really matter at this late stage? No, probably not. It is what it is what it is. I didn’t know what she wanted or maybe I did… I haven’t crossed in awhile.

waterhouse_ophelia_03

Sometimes in the quiet I can feel a subtle pressing in, hear a bit of static–nothing tangible and nothing that I can’t put off for the now. I think they must be tired of waiting. They don’t seem to understand that I have things to take care of in the here. I wonder how often this happens to others who walk this path. I wonder if they, too, only take notice in the quiet. I wonder how much I am missing when I’m not paying better attention. I guess that’s neither here nor there. I close my eyes and I whisper firmly to her to go away please. I will get to it soon enough. When I open them again, she has left. I pick my book back up and try to concentrate on the here once again.

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