“The importance of this is revealed in the kind of energy that fuels your actions. Morning energy is often the most joyous; fresh from a night’s sleep, after a good breakfast in the rising half of the day, effective work is easy and attractive. Later in the day, the same tasks become arduous as folk tire. They need a change, a rest; time to spend on handcraft or in the garden, quieter, more homely tasks.

“If they are wage slaves, not allowed to stop – never allowed to take a day off because the sunshine is beautiful and a picnic makes more sense than assembling parts on a conveyor belt, not allowed to go home and make and imagine, enjoy stories and each other’s company – until the day is all gone and they are too tired to care any more; then the Light energy of joy gives way to the fitful, bitter energy of anger.

“Simplicity creates freedom. Freedom releases joy. Joy is a source of energy.”

Jah, well and good,” Dorcas had thought even as she listened to Harold speaking. “not so easy to do when you have four children!”
So she stood, with the dishtowel in her hand, her eyes sparking like flints as she looked at Silas, asking; “Can you remember how to wash dishes?”

Tired beyond describing, tired to her bones, longing to sit inside the harmony of the music, rest in it, let it restore her again, Dorcas felt furious with the whole world; principally with those nearest her – Silas, Florence, and her four children.

She had made an indifferent lunch – it had burnt – and having not enjoyed eating it, was left with the many scraps from a family who had not enjoyed it either, and a baking tray craggy with carbonised residue to deal with.