It’s pouring buckets outside.
I had a full summer, but I neglected my chores. I wasn’t fully aware of how much I have to do, of my neglectful behavior, until I caught a glimpse of the rose bushes that line the front walkway. One pretty rose bloomed overnight. The rain brought a flower to life in my front yard, no thanks to me.
And today is my last day of peace for a while, a day to let the rain nourish my dry bones. I spent so much time taking advantage of my time that I even neglected myself. I failed to temper my fun with nurture. Ironic that it takes returning to the insanity of my job to make me slow down and do what needs to be done. I’ll spend the day putting my house in order, but the rain will do for me what I didn’t do for myself. Sitting here by the window watching drops of water bounce off of leaves against the backdrop of a dark grey sky, watching the thirsty ground drink up the water that the sun took from the lake nearby, I see how even nature takes care of itself and how it will take care of me today despite my lack of care for it. That little rose is me.
This discourse gave birth to new reflections, and Martin especially concluded that man was born to live in the convulsions of disquiet, or in the lethargy of idleness.
…’Excellently observed,’ answered Candide, ‘but let us cultivate our garden.’