The day was crisp and bright as the red brown leaves swirled under her tires. She felt full and yet still somewhat confused, but now in the confusion she also felt more self assured and at peace. Part of the confidence came from the frankincense. It was a significant detail for her, and it was precisely what she needed to know. She radiated with the smell of frankincense and it seemed almost to emanate from her. She liked that feeling and she was ready for the ease, comfort and joy that would accompany the shift in the future.

Somehow, to punctuate the moment and seal it with some measure of permanence in her soul and in her memory she looked away from the road just in time to see a young man in the simple yellow and orange wrapped garb of a Buddhist monk, his close cropped hair and delicate shoulder skin naked in the autumn air. He was attentively clearing the leaves from the side of the curb with an electric blower, its extension cord winding behind, trailing into nothingness in the direction of the house.

The divine and the contemplative are here in the recognizably mundane; in the tasks and chores that we assume everyday, especially in the beauty and order that we create.

She blinked and the vision was behind her, but the taste of metal suddenly filled her mouth. It was the taste of blood. More than just her own blood, she tasted the blood of existence, and even as the taste died away, she was grateful for having experienced it at all.

She liked where her journey was taking her.