This morning at six when I awoke, loneliness was sitting on my chest like a dental x-ray apron, even though I was buried in hairy dog love. I prayed, “Help. I am sad and lonely, and already it looks from here like today is going to be too long.” So I did a kindness to myself, as I would have if a troubled friend had confided her loneliness to me: I heated up the milk for my coffee. Then I took the dogs for a short hike up in the hills.
Another damn wind. I hate wind so much. It can make you feel hopeless, even in world-class beauty. After a few minutes, I noticed something: Because of the wind, the view was free of particulates in the air, and was so sharp and clear that it looked like one of those crisply bad paintings that are too true-too-life. The scent of spring was as light as goodness, pure and natural, mixed with the smells of mulch and grass and the old-lady perfume of wildflowers. This smell means baseball to me. I looked across the wooded canyon at Mount Tamalpais and shouted, “Thank you, Mother.” and would not have cared if someone had come along and heard me. As it turned out, no one did, and I sat down with the dogs. The landscape was bare in the wind. A lot of birds were grounded. I sat in the dirt for so long that the dogs fell asleep on the warm carpet of earth. ~Anne Lamott
when longing sits heavy and wild like big sky………look up….
inquiry for today~ when you forget to choose today, simply stop…….look up…..
Daily choice is what builds a spiritual existence. Faith in our essential connection to life happens not by thought and belief but by practice and persistence. Making choices is how we exercise that faith. It is always possible to ask, What’s enough here and now? Our automatic selves act without choice. Our knowing selves are wise and selective. We know that too much, in the end, is too little and that enough is always enough. ~Gunilla Norris