Snow Tea

Love with God carries a peculiar nature. In this mortal world, we never truly face one another. One speaks, the other listens. One acts, the other feels. Our soul delights and sings in this exchange, again and again.

But forget love for a moment. I would rather spend a weekend in that warm, snug hut... brew tea from the pristine snow outside and invite that neighbour to come by with scones and jam.

After a weekend so spent, I'll summon the Eskimo Uber to drive me back home.

Why must people overlook what lies at hand, only to discourse on lofty metaphysics—on love itself?

Ask the Eskimos how to live. When you inquire, "What do you do for a living?", they answer: "We live for a living." What else does happiness require?