I love writers,I love words

 I can't tell you what it is or who can do it, or where I go to find it. It just happens. I love when a writer turns a phrase and bam! right to my center. It's magic. It's a connecting thing, I guess different for each of us. And, woe to those who do not read or are so deadened that nothing pierces the armor of self protection.
Me, I let go..move me..thrill me..make me moan with recognition..awaken me with a shaft of insight. I'm always on the prowl for a wordsmith with wisdom. Yesterday I found a quote that moved a cloud of dreariness. From the Buddist principle Mujo (impermanence)..I found this in a little book called Wabi Sabi, The Art of Everyday Life.  I so believe my true art is my life...a canvas never finished,a book with endless chapters, that certain color always sought.
Here where I live, it was the perfect day yesterday. Autumn was in full ballgown attire. Every tree's glorious adorned branches stirred with a gentle warm breeze, the sky was heartache blue with angel wing whisps of white clouds. Oh, to stop and keep it. But we can't. In the midsts of enjoying the moment, a dread entered my mind that this is impermanent.  The days will get shorter,the robins will leave me,the flowers will freeze,the skies will mostly be gray,the air will turn bitter,the snow will come. A sense of dreariness stuck to my clothes...that I'd have to let go.  So, when I got home I made myself a cup of peppermint tea and grabbed one of my many favorite books and began to look for that "something."

"There is an hour or so in the fall
when the sky is clear and sharp
when the clouds move predictably
refusing to gather into storms
when a crisp confidence
in the fullness of its own beauty
resounds in the Mountain's colors
as if,in this moment,
the trees do not fear
the inevitable approach of Winter.
They know all about that
fly-by-night Imposter masquerading
with the face of Death."

"Yes," I said to myself...masquerading...
Bam! right to my center.