archaeology of solitude

When I write, I require equal measures of concentration and solitude. Everything I do begins to move into the realm of meditative practice. Baking bread, walking the dog, digging a new bed in the garden. On any given day, these activities can hold vast meaning, and, on truly remarkable days, they bring about a blessed untangling of thoughts in my mind. 2. Heaven – Haven A nun takes the veil I have desired to go Where springs not fail, To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail And a few lilies blow. And I have asked to be Where

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