Just breathing is enough, perhaps at times, almost too much. My heart is tender and sore almost to the point of pain, but not quite.
I took three books with me on the retreat and they shared the tent with me along with two notebooks that I filled.
The book I opened while in my tent looking out is Reduced to Joy by Mark Nepo.
I am with these words from his poem, "The Art of Facing Things". This is the last stanza.
My love for you has outlasted my notions
of love, the way a redwood, allowed to stand
after many storms, grows from the inside,
forcing its bark to drop away.
That's how I am today, dropping bark.
