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Beloved Daughter


Who are we?


Questions of identity stir. The depth of that quest for self is confronting, and so we keep busy, we keep moving…


The world says ‘Go, go, go!’


So we run.


We run until the light of the day goes, and when it has we flick the switch for more light and we party, eat, see friends, turn on screens, call people, text, comment, blog, find other things to do… for we must… not…. dare…. keep… still…, even for one moment! If we stop, that issue of self may chase us down and face us off squarely, showing us we are merely a puff of smoke on the horizon of the earth…


So who are we?


Recently we have had to


sit


still


and just


for a moment


breathe…


‘When can we get back to being busy?’ we ask.


The silence in the stopping is, um, well, it’s, …. ‘uncomfortable’.


I stop.


I listen.


My breath, the wind in the trees, birds, neighbours banging doors, traffic, a baby crying at a nearby child care centre, the whirl of the train as it pulls into the station close to my home (the wind must be a northerly for me to hear that), a plane, builders making a buzzing noise with an unknown machine, another train, school bells… these are just some sounds I hear around me…


I stop again.


I look.


A white butterfly, white roses, purple salvia, the orange/gold pansies planted in March, sunshine, a fly, green leaves stirring in the winds, shadows, sunlight, the greying woodgrain on the table where I work. It seasons with the weather…


I stop.


I smell.


Heat of the day, wet grass in the sun, jasmine blended with the fragrance of roses, hints of citrus riding high on the warm northerly breeze of the day, fertiliser spread on newly planted gardenias…


I stop.


I taste.


The remains of an almond milk chai, combined with a sweet taste of honey comb and chocolate… ‘just one’ I say…


I stop.


I feel.


The heat on my skin, the hem of my dress briefly flutters across the skin of my leg in the breeze as I sit and write, the touch of the keys as I strike the keyboard, my hands are dry, my hair blows in the wind and tickles my face…


I stop.


I know…


The world is groaning.


The earth vibrates to the sound of Creation – I hear it through my feet.


Life will go on, regardless of what I do, or don’t do (for even doing nothing is a choice).


… I know I am Beth…


I know I am loved – by husband, family, friends, God…


I know that regardless of what I do today, this day will pass. Use it for good, or not, again it is my choice…


I hope I use it for good…


BUT


The doing isn’t me, but neither are the sounds, sights, smells, tastes, feelings, knowings…


So who am I?


Am I a sum of these things?


The answer to that question is a journey deep within, and yet also beyond self. It is far; and yet the Answer is right there before us, asking us to stop, see, and know…


Where to start?


‘It’s here’, He whispers: