a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things
I know you’re upset
But here
I carved a space
In my heart
Meet me there
We’ll have tea
Not too strong
So we can still
go to bed early
We’ll talk about the
meaning of
Our matching fingerprints
You scribble tears on your face
With blue crayon
They fall, rain from your cheeks
Splash into your cup
Allow me to drink it for you
It’s been long enough
You don’t have to do this alone
Episode five of the podcast Living Practice is live 💕 catch it here or find it on your favorite podcast platform.
Reading “Ordinary Mysticism” by Mirabai Starr
I find the presence of the sacred hidden in my aching bones when I have to push myself a little farther past my comfort zone. I am reminded I am alive.
I find the presence of the sacred as I walk, an obligation, yes…but also a gift. I move on familiar paths and marvel that I came together as this particular collection of cells, at least for now.
I also feel the sacred flowing through tingling fingers as I create. It is an openness that simply keeps me moving.
I feel the sacred in the hard moments, but also in the soft. Like asking the kids about how their day was, laying down for a daily nap because I respect this body enough to know rest is vital.
Although I can feel imperfect on my path, ultimately I believe the sacred meets me in the trying. I am forever in a state of reaching toward the unknowable mystery: my fingers imagine grasping the hem of its cloak…but remember that not knowing is beauty too. I breathe, my chest rises. the day is promising but also cold. I have shelter and warmth and unending love, even if only for this brief moment.
For more writing on where I meet the sacred, check out my recent essay in Fieldwren Journal: available here
I just started it, but go grab a copy of “Ordinary Mysticism: Your Life as Sacred Ground” by Mirabai Starr. Let me know what you think.
Starmoth Press 