The paradox of whittling. Shaving away the hurt and sorrow.
Letting it go.
Picking it up.
Learning from the whittling.
Again and again.
teardrops ~ tiny reflections of joy and sorrow; wisdom, knowledge and confusion; capturing moments in time
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I've been scraping little shavings off my ration of light
And I've formed it into a ball, and each time I pack a bit more onto it
I make a bowl of my hands and I scoop it from its secret cache
Under a loose board in the floor
And I blow across it and I send it to you
Against those moments when
The darkness blows under your door
Isn't that what friends are for?
~Bruce Cockburn
h.m.--thanks for the wonderful Cockburn quote! it fits beautifully with the "shavings." and absolutely that is what friends are for :-) !!!
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