Monday, March 28, morning.
It’s snowing as I write this. Big, fluffy flakes that arrive past the date of our northern hemisphere Spring equinox. I wonder if they know they won’t accumulate. If they did know, would their especially short lifespan would matter to them? I suspect not. Nature cycles despite our self-important desires and conjecture. She is almost oblivious to us even as we celebrate and misappropriate her abundant gifts.
In the time it’s taken to gather these thoughts, the sun peeked out, smiled, and disappeared again. There are still a few flakes falling. The grass welcomes the moisture they bring, which will encourage leaf and blossom and the fruits that feed so many of the earth’s creatures.
Meanwhile, more than 3.7 million Ukrainians have fled their home. Precious lives have been lost, and words must be couched so as not to provoke the ire of maniacal ego.
The world revolves, things evolve and devolve, and here I sit, free to make homophones on the page. Free to write and drink my tea and review my long list of to-dos. In a few hours I’ll get on an ipad and greet a very special young man, a private Yogabilities™ client I’ve had the pleasure of working with for over ten years. We meet on Zoom now, post-covid. The internet has blessed me with the ability to maintain Yoga connections with some of my long-time students.
It’s hard to hold, this dissonance between my morning and that of millions of others in different parts of this country and around the world. I don’t feel powerless, though. I can pray, and direct energies towards the harmony most of us so desperately desire. I can donate the proceeds of this morning’s Yogabilities™ Zoom to an organization that provides aid and hope. I can choose, over and over again, to offer love and compassion rather than fear and judgement.
Over the weekend I received word that three of my poems were published in One Art: A Journal of Poetry. You can view them HERE.
I’m grateful these little word babies are out there, tossing seeds that might comfort and uplift even one sad soul.
If you’ve read this far, THANK YOU! May you find the good today. I promise it’s there.