I just saw a handwritten note from
Galileo. He was under house arrest
for believing we’re not the center of
everything. Now behind me, in the park,
a dozen beginners, of all ages, learning how
to juggle. We have to start somewhere. The
young man who’s so magical at this is asked
to instruct. He smiles, “You have to keep
trying. Just not the same thing.” Earlier,
I leaned over a letter from Lincoln to a
dead soldier’s mother. This, just weeks
after losing Susan’s mother, sweet
Eleanor. I keep saying her name to
strangers. You see, we all have to
juggle joy and sorrow. Not to do it
well- we always drop something- but
when the up and down of life are
leaving one hand and not yet landing
in the other, then we glow, like
a mystical molecule hovering between
birth and death, ready to kiss anything.
when we tire of pasting our world together with tape and rusty hinges……then we get real…..
inquiry for today~ allow a rainy day fill you with sorrow and attention to all that you hold…….
There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken,
out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is a sorrow beyond all grief
which leads to joy
and a fragility
out of whose depths emerges strength.