Walking around my town today, listening to Mary Oliver converse with Krista Tippett, I felt alive in my heart, felt that soft beating of art and love, and saw the word, "yes."
After a week of the world mourning, questioning, and feeling somehow lost in history, a Fall breeze, fallen leaves, people - all were medicine.
The gray has been back, and welcome. The air is cool, and there has been rain. Our city is growing and it makes me angry sometimes, sad - but then I think, well, this is just the future, and, here I am, alive in it.
How much do we mourn the news, "progress," or what is now, because we are lost to ourselves, and do not understand where we belong in the world? Or how we could belong in such a world, thinking that our suffering is somehow, improbably, unique or new?
I find my relationship to my life, my sense of belonging and being, mysteriously and beautifully, intricately, related to how well I am relating to the sky, to the knowing that I am alive.
To knowing that I am here.