A soft, misty day in Ireland is a thing of beauty. The white blankets the green and grey with hints of what was and what could be. The imagination runs wild with imaginings. The hard lines of reality meld into the soft focus of dreams.

One of my very favorite things to say when confronted with anything I don’t understand or don’t know the outcome, is, “I don’t know…. it’s a mystery.” (loosely paraphrased from Shakespeare in Love.) And for some wonderful reason, I can relax about it and enjoy the waiting and uncertainty more. Instead of scary, things seem magical and exciting, unknown and different.

The beauty of mystery, of not knowing, of release, of not so perfect, of all too human.

Blessings,

Lisa