Sitting here in a quiet house, alone with my thoughts–a keyboard, a warm cup, and time–the universe unfolds before me.
So many of the minutes of my everyday are filled up with answering the questions of the small angels I live with, negotiating the spaces between them when their demons roar, feeding them and reading to them and listening to them.
Then always the dishes, again and again, and the laundry and cleaning, with daily farm business to do too, and the farm itself with a job or two calling me. I love all of these minutes in the grand scheme of things, my blessed life.
And my aim is to always enjoy them in the singular moments I live them too; a worthy aim, even if it is one that I’ve not yet perfected.
I know that life resides in the moment, and that most moments are tiny, inconsequential things, given weight and meaning only by our presence in them, the spirits participating. Breathing and feeling and doing. Moment to moment, tiny, day-to-day things. They are nearly everything.
But I can’t lie. Sometimes my mind is far off, it is a beast that won’t stop.
That is, until these quiet moments of the morning, when the world stands still instead of moving forward, just long enough for me to expand past the bounds of my body and my life into the inner workings of my mind and my heart.
Then, I can connect these things to the rest of the Greater Than. I am one.
These moments are the expansive ones, the beyond the day-to-day ones, equally important. I’d say even the yin to the other’s yang. Through them, meaning is brought to all the other moments, and from all those other moments, I find meaning. They compliment each other, bring balance to this life, making all its moments shine brighter in their contrast to each other.
Because all day I am a part of something. Part of my relationships– family, friends, community. In the doing of my days, I feel connected to this life through these wonderful ties, these human ties of time and space. We are, after all, dancing this dance of life together, and the threads that connect us physically create a beautiful, multicolored tapestry that is stronger than any one piece of yarn could ever be, and far more beautiful.
A work of art.
But all day I am apart as well. My deepest thoughts are always mine, even when I aim to share them.
Are we not all, at our core, separate, unknowable beings?
My closest friend, my husband and lover, even he and I. We are each human beings so distinct and so subjective that we can only approximate our experiences for each other.
We can relate based on these approximations, but ultimately we own our own hearts. And that is why our journey is ultimately one for us alone, even as it is held and supported by the tapestry of life around it.
And the trick is that the better this tapestry is woven, the more we can stretch out and shape our portion of it as only our unique beings can. It is only in this world, with every other living being, that we can unfold that bit of magic cloth that is Us.
We are a work of art, too. So in our selves, in our unutterably alone souls, we are again connected. We are all one in source, in design. We all have the same mission to bleed out upon the world all the wonder that is inside us, even as no two blood patterns will ever be the same.
And in these creations that come from our core, we aim to connect our deepest parts to the web of all.
Deeply apart, but more deeply a part.
We must sing from our souls, let them create upon the world. In equal part, we must listen and love all the other songs being sung around us. The delicate balance of being alive.
We must live each heart beat as it is–doing, creating, loving–with each other, as imperfect finite people who are all-infinite as well.
In this life, even though we are all alone, we are all together.
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