Attention, for one.
It takes effort, that.
Mostly to keep doing it once the results start coming in.
This time, a heartbreaking appreciation of the pure specialness of this particular lifetime with these particular beings, wondering if I am equal to the opportunity.
This time, a push to mend the rift between Self and Spirit, wondering on its origins, its place, its healing, leading to other wonderings, some about archetypes, story, ancestral memory and the connection with human struggle that is woven into our DNA and our shared consciousness.
This time, still and always, an ongoing search for deep centering in God, and a candid assessment of my willingness to do the work required.
Questions refine, shift, retreat, prick, whisper. It is the pinning down of the truth worth sharing in this here and this now that is proving to be the hardest work of all.
How do I know? What if I am wrong? There is an idea circulating that it is okay, unavoidable even, to make mistakes along the way. But to apply that maxim to the entirety of my life as I know it seems a leap too long to make. Even to isolate it to this moment in time is farther than my legs can stretch on their own.
Calling all angels, I reckon.
The ones who offer leather jackets and black buckle shoes and Brigid-wool, all gifts and smiles from God.
You've turned up at the right place at the right time. You're doing fine. Do not ever think you've been forgotten.*
All to say that life goes on along, mistakes and all, and mistakes will likely be blessings somewhere along the unseen Way.
Stillness and patience, patience and openness, openness and willingness, and there at the beginning am I.
Always, I am only beginning.
"Coincidence," in Wishful Thinking by Frederick Buechner.