Ordinary Miracles.
Today I am so tired
I have no space in me for big.
So I must return
to the small ordinary miracles;
to the way the cup
and the bowl
laid upon this table,
once earth themselves, now,
after fire's touch
are something else
entirely,
and give themselves
freely,
and with the
simple symmetry
of their curved line
to the holding
of emptiness
or fullness.
Or I will drink tea,
and follow it's warmth
and healing touch
within and without,
and mingle my breath
with its vapour and
touch the journey
of its essence
from far away lands
to here, to now, to me.
Or spend time
simply remembering
that between the covers
of the books
upon my shelves
are held minds, lives, worlds,
stories, wisdom
that will all last longer
than this little body of mine.
Or marvel
at the striped stones
upon the shore
that tell deep time,
layer by layer
and recall wild days
of disaster and dancing
in their still sea vigil
slowly loosing
their grains and building
beaches for children's hands
to make sand castles with
until the next tide
sets them swimming again.
Or just knowing
that already I have seen
a seed become a tree
become a log
become a fire
become dust
and become soil
for seed's planting.
Or watch the sky
and know that the blue
is still behind the clouds
and the stars still shine
even in the day.
Or simply sit
with the slow rhythm
of breath
knowing its biology
as blessing,
its divine anchoring
as presence and prayer.
Today, I am so tired
I have no space in me
for big questions,
queries, feelings,
problems, pains,
plans,
whether mine
or others,
so I will just sit
with the small ordinary
miracles of being;
breathing, watching,
touching, tasting
the now,
and in the now
knowing
the love
from which all that is,
is.
I will dwell there,
today,
in the wonder
of it all,
in the wildness of
the small
ordinary miracles
of being.
(An older one today but its how I’m feeling and a good reminder to me to seek and find the extraordinary in the ordinary. May it be such an invitation to you too in these quarantined quiet days)
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