I was grinding my teeth at night, sweating.
My workday followed me home each night, demanding that I pour over the days events, the troubles in the world, my fears of money, failure and letting down those I care about.
Then I found this poem by Wendell Berry,
The Peace Of Wild Things:
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
So this weekend I went walking in nature and saw wild things, and tamed my wild brain. And this morning I basked in the full moon-set, full and glorious, as the sun announced another day.