In The Service of Love
5:am prayer, meditation, and an opening of my intentions.
Grounding under the new sun before the kids wake. Life feels clearer, like the air is diving into fours. The possibility that these days will be my new normal is painfully beautiful. I want to cry rivers of gratitude for the calm of letting go and stepping into a role that permits me to own our most precious resource: my time.
I need to replace one of the bulbs in the living room. Note: replace one of the bulbs in the living room, Té!
(the discipline of) Writing is going well—a work(ing) schedule for the business of creativity.
A short story revision is done. I’m both impressed and perplexed. See you next week, story.
I cook breakfast as Zoe pads to the bathroom. I chop, scramble, and dance to the Lovely Black Boy Vibe playlist.
Miles tells me a story he’s told nine times before. I fade off in the middle of a sentence, going somewhere new within the same tale. I ask a guided question, and his story expands, and we sit in this world-building together. It turns out Spider-Man can also recharge by talking with his ancestors—the trees; he’s known as Captain Planet, by the forest.
Ginger, soursop, and honey tea.
For two days, my body, heart, and mind were tense with the ache of anticipation. (depression is an arrogant & entitled ex-lover) Then, I remembered who I am and that I am intentionally living a life in the service of love and compassion. Also…shit happens that is larger than our current emotional scope. Resign to the fact that there are sharp rocks, even on the right path.
Throw water, wet wipes, and light snacks into the tote.
Trolly ride. While the kids read the next book in their Dog Man series, I read a chapter of Miranda July’s new book, All Fours.
Wednesday nights are Noodle Nights.
Insectarium debriefs: Miles enjoyed everything, especially the cricket-baked cookie. Zoe enjoyed it a little, especially us leaving “the yucky place.”
Everyone is problematic to a cause.
Everyone is a hero to a cause.
Water.
With all my heart…Té
