It is a wonderful play on words when we are given a phrase and then run like the wind with it. I was reading about a ‘sense of snow’ and the history of it. How someone with this sense can tell you many things when seeing a footprint in the snow and who made it, which direction he came from and where he was going. It is a wondrous sense.
We have also a sense of time. With this comes our feel for history, where someone or something comes from and the circumstances surrounding the event. Jane http://littlehousehomearts.blogspot.com has this valuable sense. In her feel for the civil war fabrics, she reveals what the times were for women, how they functioned in the mud and rain, with their lack of wares; how hard the winter was on everyone, what they had to do to care for the sick and wounded. Women gathered together to make blankets from materials at hand. All this background when added to the traditional home arts which spoke of the sense of time, sense of Spirit when handling fabric of that time.
There is also a sense of place, a sense of self, a sense of who we are and what we bring to the moment. It sums up what we do in gathering ourselves, however many parts of our self and bring to the present moment the substance of us. It is a rich substance we are to give our present meaning. We will take the fullness of today into tomorrow, into our future to give meaning to whatever world we find our tomorrow in.
When we see our place in the larger scheme of things, when we enlarge our premises and push out boundaries, we see how we contribute to universal evolution. It is our purpose in life in this dimension to contribute to all of life. It takes elastic thinking to think in these terms, but we are not an incident or accident of life with no meaning. What we do for one we do for all we have been told. We are familiar with the widow’s mite; she gave all she had, but contributed. We can apply this ‘sense of’ whatever talent we possess. When we contribute to ongoing life we enhance evolution.
As the wise Ethel Waters said, ‘I am somebody. God don’t make no junk.’ We are not a whim of the Potter.