Cold Mountain

Finally, another day book day. We have been absent from this aspect of the day for quite a while. The sound track to Cold Mountain is playing in the background; epic movie from the Civil War, and being that we are studying the Civil War, this seemed apropos. So, as i sit here and nod my head to the rhythm, i listen to the lyrics of this first song and think of the strong connections in my life. The mandolin acts as a fueling aspect to this song and feeds energy to my soul. "I'll soon be free from every trial, this form shall rest, beneath the sun . I'll drop the cross of self-denial and enter in that home with God. I'm goin' home to see my savior, i'm going home no more to roam, i am just goin' home to jordan, i am just goin' just over home."

As the song passes to the next; so do my thoughts. I look at my three children on the couch with daybooks open, toes tapping, eyes soaking in thoughts and concentrated attention. The days unfold where I continue to complain about self imposed and chronic situations; but when i am here, in this sun-lit room, three babies adjacent to my soul, with me in the moment, i can not deny the unbelievable synchronicity to this life.

Although, as the music presses on and this daybook time comes closer to a close, by 9 year old interrupts this perfect moment to address how many Star Wars Clone movies there just may be. It is funny - from Civil War to Star Wars.

Alison Kraus - Scarlet Tide
VIDEO - Click here

Well I recall his parting words
Must I accept his fate
Or take myself far from this place

I thought I heard a black bell toll
A little bird did sing
Man has no choice
When he wants every thing

We'll rise above the scarlet tide
That trickles down through the mountain
And separates the widow from the bride

Man goes beyond his own decision
Gets caught up in the mechanism
Of swindlers who act like kings
And brokers who break everything

The dark of night was swiftly fading
Close to the dawn of day
Why would I want him just to lose him again
We'll rise above the scarlet tide
That trickles down through the mountain
And separates the widow from the bride