I overslept, which means I woke at 6:20.
Ah, I pause for a moment. I am looking out on a pink cloud. I must absorb that pinkness.
I felt I had missed my meditation time because I like to check my email before I talk to Jane at 7.
I read the post of a friend. She was beating herself up for not doing enough and I saw myself and all of us in that.
Her post stopped me in my tracks, or perhaps, that is not the right wording. It opened my heart. I felt kindness drop down through me. My heart feels so open like the pink cloud that just keeps hovering there, pink, now, dropping a bit to sit on the hill, then, rising again to deepen to coral.
I see how few my needs. I just want to hang on a tree of friends, then, flutter happily to the ground.
Yesterday was my time with Zach. He is three today, January 8th. He runs now, and we were able to travel a long way from Blackie, the horse, along the bay, on the upper path to the playground, then, back right next to the birds on the bay, and the gazebo and we, of course, had to enter the magical trees. We sat snuggled together in the gazebo, his hand on my leg. Our travels took us past two restrooms which was great, because Zach now uses the toilet. He was disappointed there were no children in the playground. I pointed out it was cold, and I mean cold, but he happily played and went on all the "big boy" stuff because he is a big boy now. When someone would come, he would introduce himself, which didn't mean he always got a response.
He knows I love a view, so he found a little hill, and he as Percy, the train, would run up it, and look out and say, "Look at this view," and then, he would run down, and I, as Thomas, the train, would do the same. The moon was in the sky when we arrived but got more and more dominant as the sky darkened, and the sun was setting on the other side, huge and red and round between the clouds. A helicopter flew by next to the moon. A plane shot up like a red comet, lit by the sun.
When Zach goes inside the rounds of trees, his voice lowers. He knows it is a magical place. We saw the longest flatbed truck I have ever seen and we looked at every wheel. We saw a back-hoe just sitting there. He examines every part and explains about pistons to me.
I wonder when I look back at my life if those are the memories that matter, time spent wtih a little one as they meet and greet the world, received and receiving.
I spoke to someone who tried to sell her home three years ago, when things around here sold in a minute. Her house did not sell so she took it off the market. If it had sold, she would have invested with Madoff. She feels protected. I think we all are. The lessons may just seems skewed at times.
Perhaps patience and acceptance are my lessons for this day.
Is life a pregnancy? That would make death a birth.
- Florida Scott-Maxwell (1884-1979)
Some friends just watched their baby in the womb. That technology was not available in my day. It makes life in the womb even more clear. We are tapping on receptive walls.
Let us savor the warmth of our womb, the support. We are billionettes!