Lifting my head, I simply stood on the edge of the walking path, allowing the tips of my shoes to cross over into the slick grass while heels remained on the rolly-crunch of the pea gravel . I stood and allowed myself to feel the space with my whole body, more exposed than it would be folded into a bench; allowed myself to take in the feeling of having crossed a threshold into Other space…space that holds, cradles, wraps around with the comforting soft flop of a favourite quilt. It was about standing and allowing the stillness to become a garment, blessing and blessed, woven with discernible threads—threads of leaf rustle, crow pontification, the shoosh of air that comes when a ring billed gull lofts into flight, the morning sun, the moisture gathered in the palm of an upturned fallen leaf…
It is a beautiful thing to allow all of that to come into the self, pass through, surround, transcend, the self. It is gift and I stood there, grateful for the fullness, grateful for these times and places and experiences; grateful for the gift of attention, prayer drawn outward toward a yes to your invitation. Funny, at the same time I am grandly thankful for your always and everywhere, there is also something in me that doesn’t want to be greedy about experiencing it. I suppose I don’t want to take advantage. And I’m glad to have that shimmer of ribbon running through the garment that holds me.
Still, as I pull down at my sleeves and tuck in my hands while swinging open my arms, covering more of my outstretched self with the blessing of autumn light, I know that your generosity is more expansive than the awe of my heart, my mind, my senses, my self.
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