Saturday, October 13, 2018

I'm looking, love

I put the music on and bump it up to full volume. She is on one side of the rug. I am on the other. Stomping her shiny shoes that shed polyester sparkle like the pedals of metal flowers, she twirls her dress, bounces, and steps. I kick my naked feet and bounce and twirl and stomp too.

"Look at me, Mumma!" She shouts, moving with graceless grace. "Look at me, Mommy!"

She feels beautiful, therefore she is, beautiful. A creature of joy and love and light, she dances beside this soulful, soul-filling sound, while sweat wets the tips of her curls. She moves in this play, in this performance, inside this glinting room of wall and wood and glass. Outside, an autumn twilight blooms over our rural city of earth, tree, brick, paint, cement, stone, wind, water, animal, automobile, and people. Here in this hidden home beneath branch, leaf, and sky, she and I are motion. Made of blurry rainbows, heat, and life, we are happy and silly. In this unplanned, unstructured, blissful moment, we are content.

It doesn't fly by, her childhood, that is. Instead, it moves at the speed of the earth circling the sun. It doesn't have to fly by, I'm saying, if you see your child. She is seen by me and my watching eyes. He sees her too. Every day, we three are connecting, our souls ringing and singing from such a perfect truth that comes from only fully seeing. We are never perfect, whatever perfection may be, but we are growing, building, falling, failing, and still, we are dancing.

I don't wait for Friday anymore. I don't wait for Saturday or Sunday or holidays either. I don't wait for summer or fall or spring or winter. Instead, I take in these seconds as they come. I take them in with appreciation, meet them, hold them. Some are easy. Some are slow and sharp with difficulty. Some are sweet. Some, salty. Still, I inhale her in. She came from me, just as I came from her, and she came from her, and she came from her ... still, we are all pieces of one and one another, bits of the universe, of God or gods and stars and souls, of seawater, dirt, blood, and womb. We are one.

My time moves at the speed of the earth circling the sun. I no longer wait for anything or anyone. Instead, I listen, watch and be.  I participate, but I don't really hesitate anymore. The earth has too much fear, so I'm letting mine go. I'd like to see my ego go as well, but we'll see how that goes. I urge you to come join me here in this present moment where there is little space for fear, for when you are here, really here, you'll find that love is as spacious and as wanted as air. Love can be found nearly everywhere. And when love is missing or hidden or smothered, let us draw it out until it is unraveling, piling, and puddling around us.

"Look at me, Mumma!" She shouts, moving with graceless grace. "Look at me, Mommy!"
I'm looking, love, and I see you. 

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