It’s the weekend and I wanted to give you a gift.
The gift of this moment.
I can’t give you the gift of yesterday, or tomorrow.
But I can give you the gift of right now. However long or short it may be.
So what do you need in this moment?
What would replenish your soul for the next?
People – the you, me and we of this moment
I am grateful to be here. Right now.
Here is the sum of all that has happened to this point.
The good, the bad and the challenging.
I can choose what I want to take.
So I choose to fill it with people whose voices have shaped my own.
Whose hearts have offered their vulnerability and their gift of sight.
Ears that have listened to what I have said. And not said.
And still remained.
You are a gift to my present moment. Thank you
The Third Body
A man and a woman sit near each other, and they do not longRobert Bly, from Eating the Honey of Words: New and Selected Poems, Harper Collins, 1999
at this moment to be older, or younger, nor born
in any other nation, or time, or place.
They are content to be where they are, talking or not talking.
Their breaths together feed someone whom we do not know.
The man sees the way his fingers move;
he sees her hands close around a book she hands to him.
They obey a third body that they share in common.
They have made a promise to love that body.
Age may come, parting may come, death will come.
A man and a woman sit near each other;
as they breathe they feed someone we do not know,
someone we know of, whom we have never seen.
Place – the gift of where we are
The goslings have just hatched. All five of them.
Their experimentation with life, and water, and grass, and alpacas, and crows, has just begun…
And we are here to witness them. To celebrate their successes and mourn their failures.
Such is life and learning here in the valley.
We see it all and it is part of this moment…
… of gratitude for life and it’s never-ending rhythms.
I wonder about you and the place where you are reading this.
What is its gift to you?
Time – the gift of this moment
We will never have this moment again.
That’s both in the specific – this minute – and the general.
It has so much to teach us. And even more to release in us.
If we will let go….
What am I holding onto that is not serving me well?
What is here, right in front of me, that I want to delight in?
To grow and nurture and nourish.
Or to play with and abandon myself to without fear or judgement.
Where is my hope and what keeps it alive?
And then I remember the goslings. Just getting on with it.
Their little webbed feet paddling like mad.
Life beyond the eggshell is glorious. And vulnerable. And free.
And this moment is a gift.
A gift of hope, which comes in many guises.
Thanks for reading
Walking through the gift of this moment and each day finding something new.