I remember how the quiet felt,
how the silence waved through the day
in whispers, in music I could almost hum,
how each new day opened,
the space of it wide with mystery
and hushed meals of questions,
how we slouched tentatively
towards the horizon,
small and outside ourselves
moving through a dreamtime, confined
and limitless. Stories ended abruptly,
pages stopped turning,
I think the Earth did, too.
And then we grew accustomed
to the power of creating our lives from nothing.
Benediction, choosing the sacred meaning
of our own stories. How would we speak
of this time? What would we make of it?
Your story, what is your story?
Mine is of hope: I chose to plant seeds
I scraped the mud of my heart
and planted seeds. Fear yields
when its voice is sapped by joy
stirring possibility with hidden life;
you must see that even death
dies in a garden. I still choose
hope. Plant your seeds,
bid them lean to the light
and be astonished as your heart,
the world, now, bursts into bloom.

Wanted to share this wonderful site with you: J.S. Jen and his daughter Penny clearly love books! Their books, blog, and posts on social media are full of book reviews, videos, parenting tips, giveaways, and wonderful resources for reinforcing gratitude and kindness. Just an excellent site for children and all their adults. 💕 I’m honored to be the featured author this month, and happy to see the spotlight on The Rare, Tiny Flower!

© Copyright of all visual and written materials on The Daily Round belongs solely to Catherine M. O’Meara, 2011-Present. Unauthorized use is strictly prohibited, without the author’s written approval. No one is authorized to use Catherine O’Meara’s copyrighted material for material gain without the author’s engagement and written permission. All other visual, written, and linked materials are credited to their authors. Thank you, and gentle peace.

11 thoughts on “Then/Now

  1. Hope – yes, I had forgotten Hope … thank you Kitty, again,  for your gentle, powerful reminder. 

    Much love



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    1. Thank you, Antoinette. It’s so good to hear from you. Appreciate your voice so much. Hope takes steady tending, doesn’t it? Recent years have really tested my awareness of how easily I can let it fall away if I don’t consciously couple it with small actions that nurture it. May you be blessed with the sweetness of hope, my friend.


  2. Sorry, wasn’t signed in!

    I miss some things about those times…we quietened ourselves, we stepped back, we looked at what was truly important and what we actually needed. We breathed, and appreciated, and the silence at night was such that I could hear the wild things that share this earth.


    1. Hi, Kate! How good to hear your beautiful thoughts. I’ve been traveling along on my Lenten journey this year and pondering how “caught up” in the newness and strangeness and deep appeal of belonging to such a revolutionary community might have felt, and then how isolating and lost when their leader was gone…how they had to work out the next steps and decide if they were committed to this new way of being or had just been infatuated…the parallels with the time in quarantine made me want to write as someone from either/both experiences. Do we live into better ways or stick with the known-and-clearly-not-working?

      I hope you’ll hear the wild things calling some nights. Gentle peace to you.


      1. Hi Kitty! I AM very fortunate that I live on the edge of my small town, and a tiny finger of forest reaches around the valley to touch my home, so yes, I do occasionally hear a vixen’s cry, an owl’s hoot, and hopefully again sometime, coyotes calling. And of course we have the adaptive visitors–raccoons, opossums, deer, woodchucks that have learned to live closely with us.

        It IS fascinating how our interests and committments can ebb and flow and it’s hard to tell what’s liminal, changing shoreline and what’s the ocean. Your Lenten journey sounds deeply nourishing.


        1. Oh, my, it sounds so beautiful! And your visitors’ music matches a lot of what we’re blessed to hear, too. The spring peepers are singing now, too! Quite heavenly here this time of year, when it’s not snowing and tornadoes aren’t sending us to the basement! XO


    1. Thank you for your always-kind words, my dear friend. They are so appreciated! Thinking of you and hoping your adventures are spectacular. đź’—


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