I’ll tell you why this isn’t a contest. Because I don’t care. Don’t contestants need to care, need to have a vested interest in order to actually compete? It’s not that I don’t care about anything, because I do (oh, I do) – but I don’t care about being better than you or being perfect (whatever that is); I don’t care about numbers of likes and followers. I care about experiencing this experience (this life) for myself. And maybe sometimes my experience crosses with yours, and isn’t that lovely? But the experience: the sensations and sounds, the tastes and sights. I want to take it all in, be one with it.
Have you made a lot of money? Do you have a lot of followers on social media? Good for you.
But have you also sat with the silence on a misty morning? Have you sipped your tea and noticed how it warmed your hands – your mouth – your throat – your chest – your belly? (did you follow its path down and in?) Did you notice how that warmth spread outward in every direction, right to the edges of your fingers and toes? How the warmth rested on the tip of your eyelashes? How that warmth melted right into you? How it was part of you, how you were whole?
Did you notice?
That’s what I care about. Not the dollars, or the likes, or the latest fashion. I’ll take my patched jeans and t-shirt with the hole at the hem. I’ll curl up in the grey chair by the windows with a book and some tea, and pull the warmth into me. It’ll let it melt and slide into the spaces that need warming.
I don’t care for contests. I care for warmth. I care for living.
always the love, m