And We Saw the Dry Land Appear...

This situation seems paradoxical: in trying to start this writing in the evening, while the subject is to be how a new day is starting. Still the sun is shining strongly over the roofs in the West. It will take one hour before the Hesperides will take their Golden Apple down under the horizon.
How can I heed the faith in authentic writing, if I’m going to muse on the bare start of this new day. Either I wait until I wake up tomorrow and see what’s new then, or I try to remember and relive now how we both went to the seaside this morning. In both cases I’m abstracting from my writing in the actual glorious evening light.

So I’m going to make my choice and drop my initial subject: the zero degree of of the new day, given the freshness of the morning airs. I will leave that to the photo I made this morning before crossing over to the Zandmotor, before wading hand in hand with Willemien through the undeep laguna - which she did not like at all! The moving sandy underwater soil feels like streaming mud: no firm stepping ground. It feels as if you might sink away and the bottom is not always visible. You have to trust that you reach the other shore. And you must know the changing time table of ebb and flow, which I always consult before leaving. But that was not my subject for this Journal now.

Looking through the window, I sigh: would love to take my bike to the dunes and the beach just to witness the coming of the evening. Or sitting in the sand and do my writing there. Like I did write Journals outside on the terrace in Carlsheaven. But you can’t have it all. And moreover, we know why we have to practice the art of contentment. Why we have to liberate ourselves from all these induced wishes for filling the lack of means or conditions - if only I could dispose of this or that...No, non-sense, No need for anything we do not yet Have already. We only need to Be in touch with cosmic life as it streams through and around us.

Everything we need for creative writing lives already in us. By opening the depth of our inner selves to the infinite richness of the world, the cloudy evening skies. the falling of the night, the silence of the birds. Just a moment ago from our balcony I saw the most spectacular rosas and greys in the huge cloud sculptures. There! Spots of red fire between the dark greys. Black clouds with flames, fire on the horizon!

Hesperides your time has come. We bow in awe and gratitude. The Night will follow in your trail. We wait for new beginnings, morning brightness and uniqueness of the new daybreak, seemingly eternally repeating the same. But we know in our hearts that is not true. Every day anew we start from zero. We will see again Dry Land appear. Every day is special, you can’t miss to rediscover what chance you get to do, to render the gifts of your heart to the world.