Love is infinitely specific.…
I am who I am, even as I become more than I am.
I ache for the more than.
I see so much, and so much more than I did.
Rumors swirl of even more.
More than enough.
Perfect in our imperfections
We stumble toward wholeness…
Sometimes we dance.…
The problem with viewing life through the lens of moments (which has been transformative and largely positive for me) is never knowing for what, when or where to prepare… much less how.
The credentialing to serve as a contractor, doctor or officer of the law is spelled out and quantified. The training to meet the demands of any given moment, on the other hand, is not laid out in any curriculum I have seen.
More often than not there is a warning shot.
A clue that might serve as a “Beware!” sign of sorts. The attentive ear hears a call to alertness and caution. The sensitive soul discerns more than the eyes see and backs up.
But when the explosion hits, we are startled nonetheless. The walls come tumbling down around us, and we are stunned. How could this have happened?
Why didn’t we pay attention to the clues? …
When the road forks and we cannot see around the next bend, how do we choose which path to take?
On the journey of life we do not get to see the entire route before we have to choose our next path.
In the negotiating of any given segment of the path, what we experience and learn may inform our direction and even our intended destination.
Will changes in course turn out to be wise …
I dreamt I was 24 years old. I’m not. Not by a long shot.
But the stating of my age was so specific and clear that I keep looking for significance.
Am I somehow as much a young person as I am an old person? Am I not old at all?
Is there a message for me? Is this knowledge being given to me?
I don’t usually remember dreams. I don’t remember much else of …
Do I really need to be doing more, and doing so more of the time?
I often feel that I should be more active, more social, out with more people and more often.
But maybe I need to be quiet and be with myself. Enjoy being quiet and with myself. Risk even getting to like myself.
Instead of yearning for others to want to be with me, simply want to be with me, myself.
It grieves me to hear people describe their humanity with words like: just, only, merely. “But I’m only human.”
It’s as if to be human is somehow less than what they feel they should be. Or being human somehow negatively explains a particular choice of which they aren’t proud.
Human, though, is exactly what we should be—even with all its pitfalls, complexities, and dark places. Especially with them.
We are …
For the not yet apparent future to unfold requires flexibility… Even as we must go ahead and choose how to design each new day.…