Jewels
What is deeply hidden?
It seems I plum the depths endlessly. All I seem to have is desire and deep longing. Once again I feel it all at once, like this morning before dawn, before my head leaves the pillow. Before brushing my teeth or morning coffee, I am crying.
Tears of gratitude as I prayed the way I pray these days.
I take a breath and announce my intention to be joyful today and plug into Source.
I set my mood, like tuning an instrument or putting on a clever hat.
I pray intentionally for a long list of people, taking my time and making it personal, calling up into my mind each one and letting their unique troubles and pain unfold in my thinking like a sock that needs mending.
Examining the holes and frayed edges of each person's life with as much tenderness as I can find and ask Source to give them extra thread.
I thank Source for meeting me here, in bed, every morning just as I open my eyes with a certainty that is filling.
And I feel the absolute power and truth of such a huge Love.
This morning I added a new intention. I began to list the mind-blowing miracles I have found lately, and especially over these sad-as-fuck years since Ian moved out of physical. Cried in wonder over meeting Bridget and Cliff: for my clients, my business, my Phoebe and Henry. My children, my grandsons. The new places to hike and for the hearts I find everywhere.
I found an unexpected overflow of sweetness in finding these embers, these jewels.... floating along, even in the acrid winds of such a horror.
I let myself remember that in my darkest day recently, coming home on an airplane to the detritus of my my own making, there was such a miracle. I sat next to Michael, a middle aged man returning from a hunting trip in Montana. He appeared at least hree days unshaven, with strange deep eyes and a huge underbite. He was a human bulldog. He sat, scrunched down oddly with an empty seat between us and stared over at me. Then on into the flight, an odd thing happened. Just as we prayed together for a very sick passenger that had collapsed in the aisle, he murmured to me gruffly, "God is good, everything happens for a reason." I was crying for the lady on the stretcher, and for myself.
He then said, "There are good people in Texas." That one was for me.
Then he took my hand. A literal embodyment of the Archangel Michael, I thought, manifesting here when I needed a warrior beside me most.
I will never forget him.
Isn't is grand that often, but not always, miracles come in the form of people? This morning I cried about that too.
Then tonight after a talk with Chris, I cried again, thinking about Chris missing Ian, because he won't be here to be his best man. Not joyful tears, but there was a fullness of knowing he and I share, how hard some things are to survive. The loneliness of fullness.
Why am I writing this? What deep truth am I trying to dig from the clay? I don't know, except to proclaim my truth.
To catalogue the honest bits and hard edges.
This is the holiness my truth. I am a woman alone in a hard life that is also scattered with jewels of wonder laying before my openned heart. I cry and announce to whoever may read this, that the sorrow and bitterness also comes with strange and perfect surprises, like Bridget and William and Donna and Hudson and Coy and Trappr and Nicole, and Phoebe, who takes me walking. And Chris....and Kenzie....who walk along in their own lives and in their own holiness and hurt.
And the miracle that even without my beautiful boy Ian here to hold,
I can still love.
I declare this. The most stunning moments of awe have been revealed in my tears
And in my willingness to bow
In reverent truth
Before the pain of living.
