This last week has been a gift, a gift of exercise in patience and restraint. In getting things wrong, and finding ways to be more gentle, and be more kind. It has been a chance to put into practice the things I have been training with my meditation and mindfullness. Realizing that even if I want perhaps nothing more than to write a letter to someone, there is no love in that for them. That to act with loving kindness is to continue to focus on redirecting my river so that the new banks can take their shape and not slip back into those that were such. The ones that overflowed regularly and destructively. To that end, I've got a bit of pride perhaps in myself for realizing that there is recognizing your needs and also recognizing when those do not align. The most loving thing you can do is keep yourself from inflicting more tension, that if things are to be, they will return. Be it a month more, a year, or a decade. I've had a friend return to my life from more than a decade of something that I don't quite understand yet, I've had other friends that I've reached out to that have been years between contact that welcome me back with open arms. Even as I struggle some days, I'm given reminders that at my best, I'm pretty good, and that it's out there to be had. With that in mind I wrote down something that had been kicking around in my head today when I was meditating. Hope you like.
Young boy, sat on a trestle bridge, legs danging and the feel of old wood pushing up against the back of his legs. The warm breeze blowing off the banks just enough to sway the descent of the pebbles thrown out into the meandering slough.
Not a train in earshot, nor another soul. The afternoon long and the sun hiding behind clouds as would a lover unconvinced.
Green arms held wide and high, Oaks casting a furtive shade that of which there is plenty and yet unsoothing.
The sway of moss and the call of hawks, there is nothing so beautiful as the moment at hand.
As always, thanks for reading, my friends.
K.
