I know this series of meditations is about rest, but it's amazing how deep thoughts simply escape during these warm days.
The meditations have been going well, with at least 10 minutes of morning meditation and the occasional evening one. The house is starting to slowly fill boxes around us, making our environment a little more chaotic than usual. I'm hoping that when we move, we'll be able to fix some of the issues we had with this house, like constant clutter. Hope springs eternal.
I've been reading a lot, but it's been mostly fiction. The Dark Between the Stars, by Kevin J. Anderson is my next work, but I'm having some trouble getting into it. The Gilded Rune, by Lisa Smedman is another work I'm reading, and it's easier to get into. Less characters, more linear storytelling.
I've been dismayed by the trend in modern novels to jump, jump, jump. This character, then this one, then this one. It's OK when there's two sides, like in the Dan Brown novels, there's Robert Langdon, and there's whomever he's working against. Even those works he'll do 2 or three chapters on Robert, then several on the antagonist.
But in The Dark Between the Stars, there's about 30 people with a majority of alien names, and hopping between place and place, story and story. I'd like it much better if it were block by block: This part of the story goes for a while, then this part, etc. Or perhaps it's cut into sections, with section 1 focusing on this group of characters, section 2 on this group, etc.
Maybe my brain is just not as nimble as it once was.
The sheep and llamas have been sheared. Dropping away the old dirty protections from winter in anticipation of the warm days of spring. At first, they were awkward, and they looked funny because it was different than we were used to seeing them. Now, we've gotten used to it, and it seems natural, if still a little different.
We have a bunch of chicks in the brooder. They're eating and running around like crazy. It's both happy time and a time of worry. The little ones are fragile, and sometimes they die in the brooder. The baby bunnies are the same, sometimes they strangle or get stepped on by momma and die. The joy of new life, along with a recognition of its fragility.