melting
I almost cry so many times this week. Poems are finding me. Teachings are finding me. Conversations-at-just-the-right-moment are finding me. Kindness is finding me. I am not looking, but there they are, offering themselves. And so I almost cry so many times. And then I do cry.
The air is crisp, the sun gloriously bright. There’s nothing else to say on that account. It is all and everything and enough.
I make chili and it’s delicious. It won’t win any chili cook-offs but it satisfies and comforts. Tomato-y cumin on the tongue, followed by honeyed cornbread, a glass of water, a kitchen table with people I love. Once again, it is all and everything and enough.
Mornings this week are candles, coffee, poetry, writing. Mornings are tuning in, encouraging slow, building foundation. Mornings are me, and I am them, melting one into the other.
I co-teach a yoga class for a Girl Scout troop. They are thirteen years old, timid but also brave. Shy smiles, curious eyes, giggles. As I guide them through savasana, I think how sweet they look. They are tuckered out from the flow practice my colleague created for them, tuckered out and sweet. They lie still, the room is silent, a few moments of peace. I hope they carry something of that hour with them. May it be so, may it be so.
And then, just like that, the week rounds into the weekend, a rhythm steady and true, a melting. One day, then another. One breath, then another. One loving thought, then another. We need more loving thoughts in this world. Love won’t fix all and everything but it is all and everything, and it is enough. If we’re going to start somewhere, why not start with love? Why not melt the hard edges of pointed fingers? Why not melt into something softer, sustainable, an embrace?
If you judge people, you have no time to love them.
~ Mother Teresa ~
P.S. The live class for February's The Quiet Page is full but you can still sign up for thedigital version to enjoy on your own time. Click here to sign up (registration closes Feb 14).