"…there were real, silent haunts where a prayerful soul could become absorbed in recollection and praise."

– Story of a Family

Moira and I were walking this foggy afternoon, so still we could hear our own steps on the ground.  We spotted something in the distance in the water.  At first I thought perhaps it was trash that had fallen in.  Then no.  As we approached we could begin to make them out, three swans gliding so silently you could barely register movement.

I have thought about them since, slowly moving downstream, making no big splashing scenes.  No upset or feathers flying. Just fully possessed of themselves, recollected. This is the image I have held in my mind.  A goal. When concerns arise, the to-do list grows, when the life waters get choppy, not to fight it but to float along with it.  I tend to fluster better than float, but this is what I keep returning to.