I meditated with my back to the sun today. I did this as an intentional prayer to those living in the dark. I did it to show my gratitude for the moments that hurt us the most because those moments build our strength in a way that no amount of running or weightlifting ever could.
Admittedly, it’s easier to be grateful for the sun – and oftentimes gratitude for darkness doesn’t come until the struggle has passed and retrospection provides insight. Nonetheless, the gratitude inevitably comes. Maybe one day you look out and see just the reflection of light. Eventually you’ll remember you can turn your face and feel its warmth.
The sickness in the dark is when it feels as though that’s all there will ever be. My prayer today is for those trapped in the sick dark. That we might be able to hold on for when the struggle becomes hindsight which blessedly brings sweet gratitude.
I meditated with my baby today. Okay, she’s nearly 7 but the number will always be irrelevant to her being my baby.
She pulled up a cushion beside mine and we lit candles, sounded our singing bowl, and settled in. The feeling of joy that bubbled up inside of me was magical. Pure joy, pure gratitude for a moment of contemplation with my beautiful daughter. It was like foam on top of a root beer float – the joy bubbling out of me, overflowing into the world – unable to be contained even if I wanted it to be. Which I didn’t. This is what I can share with the world every day. This overwhelming sense of gratitude, of joy. If I can walk with that every day and bring that to every interaction, my duty is done, my purpose is fulfilled.
She attempted to stifle a yawn that ended with a guttural gurgle. We opened our eyes to peek at each other and giggle. Eyes closed again, I visualized a blanket wrapped around us, keeping in the warm, peaceful, safe feeling. Oh that I could give that to my daughter to carry every day. In all of her interactions. Even with the blanket around us in my mind, the peaceful root beer foam bubbled over … it would touch the others in our house, on our street, at her school, in my office …. this is what we can do.
I opened my eyes again to take her in – to observe her in the candlelight. She’s beautiful of course but the most precious thing in that moment was watching her sit peacefully with her eyes closed. No device, no TV, no peer group … this girl of mine can sit! We’ll both carry those quiet peaceful happy moments with us throughout the day. And that is our service to the world we love.
In gratitude. xo
We are under siege.
Grab kleenex and brace yourself.
Orange-black stained glass;
the monarch’s delicate wings
move and play with wind.
How does one describe
the emotions that surface
in the wake of winds?
A magical moon
is on the rise as we move
from spring to summer.