Friday, November 20, 2015

11.20.15 Shining there, on your horizon, looking like grace.

Every evening seems like a surprise. As if you'd forgotten all about being a living thing, on a planet. That spins. That holds your feet to the ground. As if you forgot that every moment there are gajillions of sunsets and sunrises all over this globe, never mind all the patillions of planets and stars with their own sunrises and sunsets happening like nuts all over the place, not even with our own little sun. Nope. I forget.
And then I see out of the corner of my eye the beginning of a glory filled one. So I hightail it down the hill, to The Eagle Sanctuary, where I pile out of the car, in my slippers or whatever, and stand there, always in the wind. Hardly ever no wind. Always the Connecticut flowing powerfully right over there, past the farmer fields and trees. Always the sense of enormity.
Of my heart. Of yours. Of your vision of your self or your life that has tiny bits of it panning out, actually. Of the last thing on your mind before you fell asleep last night. Of the complete amazement of waking up once again, and having a day handed to you. All bright and shiney and new, even if you're not.
So yeah, there you are, checking out the sunset surprise today, and there is your consciousness, all around your sweet planet. With all it's confusions and problems and mean stuff and yearnings and hurt feelings and betrayal and
. There it all is. In your tiny corner of the universes. In your face. In your heart. Shining there, on your horizon, looking like grace.

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