8:30

By eightthirty

where's your stem at?

8:30pm. At home. Working at home. Mrs theWeir is working, but fortunately given her profession, not at home.

A wee break to visit downstairs and fill my glass with water and my mouth with food. Not much, just a little.

Cycled home today for the first time in (what felt like) ages. It wasn't expressly hard, a little more traffic on the canal paths, and I was definitely not cold.

Looking at these flowers I bought for our anniversary at the weekend and wondering where my stem is drawing water from.

The well of life or the well of self?

These roses need water to retain their petals. Their colour. Their bloom. They will dry up with it. On their own, they will wither and lose their life.

Too often I think I can make it on my own. Figure it out, take responsibility, get it done, be who you are meant to be.

I was reminded on more than one occasion today that not only do I not have all the answers, skills or experience, but that by truly to act like I do, I end up powerless. Ineffective.

So, I want to draw from the well of eternal life that is here and now, living and active. The realm of the possible and the hope-fuelled and the energised.

Sure, I'm still going to work tomorrow too.

The tips of the stems are here.

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