in the thicket of it

For most folks, the advice to "follow your inner voice" can not be repeated often enough.
For others, it might seem like permission to screw off.
And then there are those who drink a dose of daily magic by most all the time listening to their inner voices. They are usually short cash but rich in art and music and poetry and ideas. God takes care of idiots and musicians (or as the tired Nashville joke goes, what do you call a musician without a girlfriend? ---homeless)
I fall in between, I watch for signs all the time to give me permission to listen to my inner voices, that call and sing and even wail sometimes in conflict as I sit inside making out the utility bills and repeating the buttons pushes on the calculator as if it would make the balance come up differently.
On magic perfect days, at the transition of the seasons, if I have all my work caught up and have hopefully made my customers happy, I listen to the voices. Yesterday, I had a couple of hours of daylight left and was able to crawl into one of my favorite places, a new thicket that I haven't been in yet.
I crawled out with half a honeysuckle and maple-sucker basket and the memories of a close encounter with a wid rabbt and carolina chickadee and the first real "almost hot" sunshine on my face.