There was a nettle growing out from the stone wall, lit up by that golden light that only happens when the day’s almost gone.
I stopped. Just stood there. No foraging, no thinking. Just a moment of attention.
It reminded me how easily I forget the point of it all.
Not the harvesting. Not the knowledge. But the stillness. The listening.
“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” – Mary Oliver.
That line carries weight if you let it.
The nettle didn’t need anything from me. But I needed that pause.
We’ve been trained out of this way of being. But it’s still there, waiting.