I’ve been fighting the rumblings of a cough. Then Orlando. Rain. My mind said workout, but my body said something else.
It is so like life to have you in a space of total lightness and optimism one moment and then test you a hundredfold the next, as if to say “Think you got it figured out? Well, let’s see how you fare with this….” Boom. So many dead and injured. So much hatred and pain.
Of course I want to dig my heels further into my optimism and hope for humanity, have my light burn ever more brightly so I can ray it forth with stars, rainbows, silly emoticons, superhuman love powers. Ever more brightly. Ever more brightly. But one can’t do that without pausing, gathering, recalibrating, feeling.
I needed quiet and stillness, tenderness, self-kindness. I gave myself time and space to breathe, lean, burrow. I let myself feel the pain, disappointment, shock, grief, sadness, terror–for the kind of world I brought my children into and the monumental task of birthing the kind of love we have never known before. And let myself feel my place in it. My possibilities in it.