Thanks For Sticking Around

Good morning, chickadees!


tea 
journal 
sofa
mom's Irish lap blanket
books
christmas tree
moon still up 
+ sleeping house 


a very grateful heart.


I've been missing in action, after leaving you two days ago with the words of Eckhart Tolle:


You are here 

to enable the divine purpose 

of the universe

to unfold. 

This is how important you are.

Go ahead. 
Read it out loud to yourself. 
Take a moment to believe it, 
even if you think it's nonsense. 


Me? Part of the divine purpose of the universe? Poppycock. 


I took Chewy out for a morning pee, barefoot, under the morning moon. At first the frosty ground felt delicious but I quickly found myself doing an Irish jig while he took his usual sixty second pee. My neighbor's kitchen was lit a warm yellow through the trees. I hopped, in my sarong-barefoot-with-winter-coat ensemble and dog, moon-gazing. 


I am happy I said to the moon. 


This was a lovely surprise coming out of my mouth since I'm prone to sadness and a certain kind of melancholia that as far as I can tell, I've carried like a small but steady companion, since I was a little girl. Even when I'm laughing with the best of them, my very funny brothers, I'm aware of another feeling; a longing to hold on to the laughter and moment of closeness, a mix of love and loss.


Sometimes a feeling sweeps through me where I think: 


How is it that my brothers and I don't still live together? I have a vision of us crowded into the tub, at least 3 of us, full of toy soldiers with bayonets and matchbox cars. The bathroom floor wet with puddles while Mom or Dad stands by with an armful of towels. 


How did we get to be middle-aged people who live in separate houses with children in the bathtub and us holding the towels?


I know. It's called growing up. and we wouldn't fit in the tub now.
Still, I wonder about these things.


As I write this morning ramble, 
I am holding you, dear reader, 
in my mind's eye.


Wondering how your morning is unfolding. 
Wondering how you're feeling and thinking. 


A therapist once wisely told me, "Oh, Blanche" he called me that sometimes, "You have no idea the things people think about. Trust me." 


Just for today, the whole thing feels like a wonderful mystery that I don't need to figure out. Amen to that.


peace and blessings on this December day.


Thanks for sticking around. xo b