I read Radical Hospitality and am with the invitation to be hospitable to myself, to the strangers within, and through that, to have a better understanding of those with whom I come in contact.
It is a week since Steve's surgery. His life is still curtailed. Healing takes time. It puts things into perspective. What really matters this day, tonight, this moment, now?
I have been with the first three lines of a poem by Jared Harel, called "Why I Don't Ski".
My bones are marvelous. Many would kill
for a skull like mine, a scapula
so sculpted you could use it for soup.
Perhaps we don't always honor our shoulder blade, but don't these words just make you want to reach out and touch your skull, the bones that form the socket for your eye, your cheekbones, and the shoulder blades so beautifully pulled and released by muscles of love.