The Orchid Journal

(Forest Park. St. Louis, MO -photo taken by Laelia Watt, June 2011) The storm rages, but outside, it is calm- The birds communing like old friends in the stream They appear unconcerned by my troubles, or theirs Watching them does nothing to solve my grief, or rumple their feathers. They nibble on; and I look on; the water burbling under our feet How odd are they, of different types standing together. One parading calmly as if guarding the mother and her ducklings. All periodically glancing At the featherless creature sitting mournfully on a rock nearby Watching them does nothing to solve my grief. Nevertheless, the Wait is suddenly more bearable

(Photo by Laelia Watt- phone camera, December 2013; Memorial Presbyterian Church Subtitled: A Question, 6 Ruminations, a Summary, and a Quote, on the Quiet Life Have you ever considered the miracle that is a "quiet life"? 1) I often think about how precious it is to have a decently healthy body to dance or sing with, or hug my friends, to take a walk in the park, or feel the water running down my skin. Death, disease, and disorders abound. It is a miracle if we are able to make it to 45 or 90 largely unscathed. Spending my health and precious years in worry about how big of a mark I'm making on the world is a waste of time and distracting me from enjoying the moment in front of me. 2) Having a job that is enjoyable and pays the bills is a blessing, even if it isn't particularly heroic or interesting by anyone else's standards. There are people without jobs (well, I am one of them right now), and people with jobs that suck the life out of them. A quie...