For you, midweek . . .

Joy. It grows in any season and you may harvest it without limit.

 

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A fine sentiment, expressed in a men’s prayer room somewhere–I think it was a church.

 

 

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I returned to the place where I had spent three weeks in an addiciton recovery center (much more about that later) and walked this labyrinth in gratitude.

 

 

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Life welcomes winter, and holds it with the ever-hope of spring.

 

 

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Ageless.

 

 

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With irony, courtesy of The New Yorker and a waiting-room table at Kaiser Permenante, Family Practice.

 

 

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Hardy, strong, full of life, and without regard for momentary discomfort.

 

 

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I believe I shall attend this while I have the opportunity before returning to work or whatever.