As a child, I held my hands wide open to the gifts of the moment. One of my earliest memories is that of sitting on the counter, eating a spoon full of peanut butter. It's odd but I remember that moment so peacefully, regardless of the chaos that surrounded me in that house. Now, I clinch my fists and pass moments as mere inconveniences to my own plans. My life often feels like a mask I've stretched over my face. A mask to be appealing to others, protect myself or to hide from myself. The expectations, guilt, disappointment. How long will it take for me to embrace my life as it has been given? Bask in the early mornings of Fall. Receive the pain as a blessing. See the ones I love for what they are & cherish that, instead of cursing them for what they can never be. I find refuge in the words of Wendell Berry,
"It is to be broken. It is to be torn open.
It is not to be reached and come to rest in ever.
I turn against you, I break from you, I turn to you.
We hurt, and are hurt,and have each other for healing.
It is healing, It is never whole."
A thought that continues to come to mind.
The Baggage, I will help you unpack it,
But only when you're ready.