One of my favorite passages is from the book Little Bear's Friend, by Else Holmelund Minarik, in which Little Bear writes his new friend, Emily, a letter.
It is snowing.
I love the snow.
I wish I could send you some.
Owl, Duck, Hen and Cat
send their love.
So do the ducklings.
I cannot wait for summer.
These words still me. The communication is intimate. In the first journal I ever kept as a child, I wrote the same first line:
"It is snowing" (because it was). And that was my first attempt to connect to myself, to put form to my experience and tell SOMETHING/SOMEONE I was here.
My experience of Life is that it speaks to me. And to the extent that I'm listening, I am happy. For it never tells me I'm late or wrong or too anything, instead it speaks behind the dramas and stories of the day, offering me friendship- like Little Bear- in the simplest, sweetest terms.
From the Inside