I looked at everyone
where they came from,
and who they missed,
and what they were sorry for.
~Jonathan Safran Foer
a kinder place to be….
inquiry for today~ the remnants of our lostness inform the winter light…..
When humbled, we finally stop fighting— against life, against the tide of time, against the avalanche of disappointment, if we can outwait the stubbornness of our dreams. For every storm, no matter how fierce, dissipates itself. The question is how much damage it does while wearing itself out. Eventually, once broken open, once our soft center spits out its pearl, we try to put all that we’ve damaged back together. And no one tells us that the storm hurts itself. It guts its own center. Even the surf crashes into itself. All this to say, I’m sorry for the path of my storm. I know some things can’t be put back together, and we have to live with what we’ve done.
In time, the hardest nut will crack and wonder why it took so long to lean into love. But now that we’re here, I don’t know what to say, other than, please, stay close for the time we have. Like flowers, we spend long hours underground, in the dark, all for these few moments of blossom that we never thought would come.