Tidepool

    My eyebrows are back and the world is different now. I've never been so homesick in my entire life. I missed my blue, shaggy carpet. The feeling of hugging Savannah. Fogging up every window in my house while making hot stew. I make stew like it's the last one I'll ever get to make. The other night I sat at my alter and mediated for a long time. God met me somewhere in the middle and laughed at me, lovingly.

     "Long vacation?"

"I'm sorry it's been so long. I get distracted towards the end of the year. You're still very real to me."

I apologized. It's never been my intention to only commune with God when I am tired and desperate. I want to reach out and touch God at the height of my joy, not when I'm anxious on a plane.

    I am in love and it feels sustainable this time. Like it isn't going anywhere when I turn my back to go write something down. No, it is not some antsy child in constant need of entertainment. It's more like a tidepool. Something with it's own community. With waves of grand elation flooding everything on occasion but mostly with an ecosystem in utter support and serenity. I am no longer struggling to keep dying things breathing. This thing has lungs. 

    Starting this year I find myself broke and yet so spiritually wealthy. I've been wondering if anyone can really reach nirvana on their own accord. The moments in my life where wisdom has punched me in my face have usually been from a friend's mouth unto my ears. I need people to show me God everyday through their laughter and confusion. Through surrender and generosity. 

    Over the holiday I mediated in a moment of shakiness and asked God to show me where the love is. This can be a cruel, shallow place. One where people idealize killing, hurting, breaking what stands in tact. I asked to show me how abundant and glorious my life is outside of this frustrating moment, outside of the noise of desperation. I saw my love and I saying beautiful words to each other, dolphins playing, a secluded cabin in the forest with moss engulfing the roof and front steps. I saw my future bookshelf. The espresso machine at my work. My cat laying in a patch of sun. There is one word for this year and that is: enjoy. There is so much to beam. Let's know what we have.