This was one of those weeks for me when all things converged.
Conversations overlapped, unspoken needs got answered, everyone (it seemed) held up mirrors for one another.
The topics at hand included success, cancer, sleeplessness, politics, houseguests, fear, running, education, food and technology. It was a busy week.
And still, the answer to pretty much every question was the same.
There is spiritual in the actual, sacred in the ordinary, ideas (as William Carlos Williams would say) in things.
This was a good reminder, when so many things seem impossible to grasp and my body either threatens to sink or implode or combust in the buzz of it all. It was a good reminder to look around and notice what beauty is at hand right here and now. It was a good reminder to eat my bowl of fruit and pour my cup of coffee, kiss my family and kiss them again, and do the work that makes my heart sing. It would be silly, after a week like mine, to ignore a reminder like that.
The Inner History of a Day
by John O'Donohue
No one knew the name of this day;
Born quietly from deepest night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for itself,
Opened out to offer each of us
A field of brightness that traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to show the way.
(Read the rest here...)
(Hear a lovely interview with John O'Donohue and recitation of some of his poems in his warm Irish brogue here...)
Happy Friday, my friends.