stringless rosary
Peeling a pomegranate, head tilted to the side. As each heavy ruby seed drops in the bowl, gratitude. Knowing which fruit is in season is a life-long learning, it seems. Feeling grateful is a life-long process, if I'm lucky and diligent with my practice.
Holidays far from where home was for a long while. I'm blessed to have the strength, the resilience, the bravery and the friends that make it possible. Solstice has passed. Light is on its way back. My belly still feels full of turkey, gravy and laughs. As the bowl fills, I continue counting, breath after breath of thanks.
Winter wasn't always easy. I'd say in some ways, it still isn't. I'd also say that in more ways, it now is easier. Yesterday I ran outside, my strides cutting the fog, my footsteps echoing and my lungs like exploding giants. Deft toes dancing through the designs of roots, rugged terrain under my soles. For a moment, in place of it, a remembrance of Montreal's snow covered roads and the bruises I used to bear from a fall or two. It's not that I don't fall here - it's just that I feel safer.
Ping.
The washer purrs on the other side of the house, the dryer roars sweetly. Through the window, the mountains are finally in view, clouds clearing as the sun stops being shy.
The red fruit's heavy seeds fall. The bowl is more than half full.
Plane tickets were booked to Montreal, giving me a few days to feel my nose freeze on my face, to pick up a few things I left behind when I lacked the faith that I'd be lucky enough to stay here, to share a meal or two and lots of joy with 514 friends.
I'm out of pits but far from out of blessings
Holidays far from where home was for a long while. I'm blessed to have the strength, the resilience, the bravery and the friends that make it possible. Solstice has passed. Light is on its way back. My belly still feels full of turkey, gravy and laughs. As the bowl fills, I continue counting, breath after breath of thanks.
Winter wasn't always easy. I'd say in some ways, it still isn't. I'd also say that in more ways, it now is easier. Yesterday I ran outside, my strides cutting the fog, my footsteps echoing and my lungs like exploding giants. Deft toes dancing through the designs of roots, rugged terrain under my soles. For a moment, in place of it, a remembrance of Montreal's snow covered roads and the bruises I used to bear from a fall or two. It's not that I don't fall here - it's just that I feel safer.
Ping.
The washer purrs on the other side of the house, the dryer roars sweetly. Through the window, the mountains are finally in view, clouds clearing as the sun stops being shy.
The red fruit's heavy seeds fall. The bowl is more than half full.
Plane tickets were booked to Montreal, giving me a few days to feel my nose freeze on my face, to pick up a few things I left behind when I lacked the faith that I'd be lucky enough to stay here, to share a meal or two and lots of joy with 514 friends.
I'm out of pits but far from out of blessings
Comments
Post a Comment