My back yard smelled like Santa Fe this morning, thanks to pine smoke from the chimney and the fresh coffee in my cup. It took me on a cold, bright vacation to the fall of what seems like a hundred years ago. The smells whisper to me of promise, of joy in the midst of uncertainty. Of presence in the midst of hoping. Of a story I will some day tell. I wanted to sop it up like honey with a bit of warm tortilla, crunchy with cinnamon and sugar and yielding soft in its interior.
My true love sent me notes today. Sent me such silliness in the midst of business, strictly business. He popped up there on my screen and said hello, I love you in a thousand different ways that made me laugh. He reminded me what's good, what's right, what's true. He told me things that only I would understand. He was a tangible presence there, like a hug from far away. He made me wonder why I thought anyone else ever mattered.
My muse visited me today. In spite of his being a wee bit battered of late, he came to say hello. Yes, my muse is male. No he isn't real. He's just visits me from time to time and brings me treats of words. Phrases and ideas that tumble around and fall out through a pen that moves so smoothly, uninterrupted. I thanked him for his time and explained I'd love to stay and chat forever, but there was this laundry to be done, food to be made, people to tend. He said it was all right, he'd just hang out in the back of my mind a while. He kept me company while I worked.
These little people in my life with their speeches and their declarations, their moods and their mischief. I looked at them through new eyes today. The eyes that say that's good, that's right, that's how it should be. They whirled themselves green on the playground; fell tumbling, laughing to a heap of suddenly longer, leaner arms and legs. Arm in arm they skipped away to find the next adventure. They have their secret language, the language of being born of the same womb in different times. The language of eyes that match each other's and barely distinguishable laughs. Their world is two halves of a whole, a yin and a yang and a hop, skip, pounce, giggle. My eyes said that's good, that's right, that's how it should be.
There are things you'll never know. The things that make me cry. The things that light up the inside of my head like too many fluorescent bulbs and make me cringe and cower. The things that hurt and annoy and break. The things that seek to destroy. The things that bring me to my knees. There are things you'll never know because they aren't worth knowing.
These things that make me smile, though; I collect them like stones and carry them in my pockets. Their weight is ballast. Their clam insistence holds me to center when balance is precarious. These stones shelter me when the outside is scratching to get in - whining, niggling, insisting upon itself. These warm stones that fill up the pockets of my thoughts: the scents, the sun, the soul mate, the source, the smallness of hands and feet with great big souls. These are the things that made me smile today.
My true love sent me notes today. Sent me such silliness in the midst of business, strictly business. He popped up there on my screen and said hello, I love you in a thousand different ways that made me laugh. He reminded me what's good, what's right, what's true. He told me things that only I would understand. He was a tangible presence there, like a hug from far away. He made me wonder why I thought anyone else ever mattered.
My muse visited me today. In spite of his being a wee bit battered of late, he came to say hello. Yes, my muse is male. No he isn't real. He's just visits me from time to time and brings me treats of words. Phrases and ideas that tumble around and fall out through a pen that moves so smoothly, uninterrupted. I thanked him for his time and explained I'd love to stay and chat forever, but there was this laundry to be done, food to be made, people to tend. He said it was all right, he'd just hang out in the back of my mind a while. He kept me company while I worked.
These little people in my life with their speeches and their declarations, their moods and their mischief. I looked at them through new eyes today. The eyes that say that's good, that's right, that's how it should be. They whirled themselves green on the playground; fell tumbling, laughing to a heap of suddenly longer, leaner arms and legs. Arm in arm they skipped away to find the next adventure. They have their secret language, the language of being born of the same womb in different times. The language of eyes that match each other's and barely distinguishable laughs. Their world is two halves of a whole, a yin and a yang and a hop, skip, pounce, giggle. My eyes said that's good, that's right, that's how it should be.
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| Photo courtesy of morguefile.com |
These things that make me smile, though; I collect them like stones and carry them in my pockets. Their weight is ballast. Their clam insistence holds me to center when balance is precarious. These stones shelter me when the outside is scratching to get in - whining, niggling, insisting upon itself. These warm stones that fill up the pockets of my thoughts: the scents, the sun, the soul mate, the source, the smallness of hands and feet with great big souls. These are the things that made me smile today.
