It’s good to be quiet, and to wait. Sometimes… too often I think… I find I’m filling a space with words, thoughts, lessons- my inexorable quest to learn, to be my best, and to give my best to the world. But… it’s not always the way.
Tonight I’m listening to the rain and loud rumbles of deep bass, a guttural and thrilling power below the cognitive level of words… In this moment I feel something warm and basic, something I’d call love, though sometimes I wonder if the word is overused… I get this feeling that if I don’t put too many words to it, that if I go get in bed and listen to the feeling, and to the rain, wake up tomorrow and go about my day, that the gift will be myself. Not a lesson, but a changed story, one in which I am happy no matter the weather. Not prozac happy or inured to pain… but willing, and content in a deeper and sturdier way, to feel what there is to be felt- and in that willingness, a new, and happy, knowing of my life.