12.20.15 There are those moments we never forget.

I would not have remembered this was 12.23.13. 

What I would remember is finishing seeing clients, being so tired and so full of the joy of doing the work I loved. Helping people learn to heal themselves, and doing the hands on and educational and supplemental work to support that. Having it go so beautifully I often wondered how. 

I remember standing there, after I was done and my office was closed up, walking to the back of the property, down the rickety old rotting stairs, and getting as close as I could to the river, without falling in. 

Standing there, peering. 

At the ice blue waters racing past. 

At the brilliant red berries in stark contrast. 

At the framed vision with all the small branches. 

The almost iridescent reflection across the way, of those trees living there, by the riverside. 

Of the slope of the land, the comings and goings of floods and parched summer days. 

Of the lives. 

Of trees and bushes and small and large wild things. 

All making their way. 

Myself an integral part of it all. 

As I grow older, it is less the concept of spirituality and the specifics that hold me. 

It is more the depth of experience that enfolds and carries me in my days.