. . . and I think about you. How can I reach out across continent and ocean to tell you that you are more than okay, you are wonderful.
This morning I sense the disruption, I feel something like (and softer than) your hurt, the ache of a dream yet again deferred, and the doubt and resignation that mixes with your hope. I know a parallel world. Even now with newfound strength I question my ability to reach high enough, and I have only myself tugging down on me. You have more powerful pulls on your being.
If you were here, I would climb the stairs to your world and we would walk together and enjoy toasted bagels with cream cheese and hot chocolate. We would talk about our frustrations and somehow work ourselves up to full-bodied laughter, too loud and too happy for other early morning diners. We would smile at that and laugh some more, and we would remember what we have always known in our cores, that we can do this, that we are good enough, that God placed us here to succeed, that these man- and devil-made roadblocks can be cleared even though we don't yet know how to clear them.
I sit here in this hour before dawn and wonder where you are now and how long you plan on wandering Europe untethered to technology? The space is good for clearing the mind, but I am selfish and would rather be traveling with you. And I secretly hope that you will break your technology fast and read these words in an Internet café. I want you to know that I miss you. I want you to remember how many good times we've had over the decades. I want you to know that I love you. You know that, right? O, I wish that I had made sure of it before you left.
I dreamed of reconfigured neighborhoods and new houses. I dreamed of meditating while holding really still and the different opinions people had about how and whether I should do this. It strikes me as funny now that their critiques and opinions were keeping me from the peace I already knew how to access.
That's what I wish for you across these many miles: peace, and within that peace the quiet assurance that you are enough, you are more than enough, you matter; you, my dear friend, are wonderful. Do you feel it? Please reach out and grab hold of it, pull it in.
I believe in dreams.
I believe in the possibility of overcoming the cant's of our own and others' creations. I believe that when we stand, we will see that this hole is not as deep as it feels.
Though in different countries in different time zones, let us climb together into the soft and glorious light of dawn. Are you ready? Take my hand.
It is a new (anew) day. Let's feel it, each in our own realm. Let's stand and face it, embrace it even. Let's hold its power in the palm of our outstretched hands.
- Today's score is . . .
- I am the hollow of . . .
- I reach . . .
- . . .
- If God can move mountains, cause prison walls to c...
- I am in a place you have never been . . .
- O I try so hard to be hopeful . . .
- Eating chocolate at seven a.m. . . .
- The morning is still . . .
- I wrote about the purple wall . . .
- I write to fill the hole . . .
- Is there a stronger word than crucible . . .
- Who walking these halls is . . .
- There is power in the pronouns . . .
- I look and I can't find what I hope to see . . .
- I am all over the place . . .
- Today I ran to the store for a loaf of bread . . ....
- I'm not pretending . . .
- Safety glass keeps the whole together . . .
- I think . . .
- I am selfish in my words . . .
- I sit beneath the mountain . . .
- Once upon a time . . .
- Try as hard as I might . . .
- This afternoon I ponder my blessings and gifts . ....
- I don't know what to pray for . . .
- Lost . . .
- I sit here trying to feel . . .
- Epistle to nowhere . . .
- On your birthday . . .
- What if . . .
- I am the silent . . .
- Once . . .
- To those who are lost . . .
- She wondered . . .
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