There is much I would write this morning, so much I need to learn about myself today, if only I could write it out. There is a prayer of sorts, waiting to find its way into the world, to cast its golden threads through the air.
There is a poem waiting too, about a mother and a daughter, about the house of the heart, about how I want to join with a village of women to encircle that house, to sing, to gather river water, to cook beans and rice, to comb their hair, to sit in silence, to hold their feet in our hands, to anoint them with precious oils. Perhaps this is that poem.
Meanwhile, two boys are on the edge of battle in the background, and I must go and open the door on my day. Here was this moment, and now it is passing, and another is coming to meet me. All of it is holy, perhaps, even the name-calling over there on the fringes. If only I can listen closely enough, perhaps I will begin to understand a little of the song that surrounds us.
1. Swans! Yesterday I saw a small flock flying westward, toward the River, as we were driving east. There may have been twelve of them.
2. The twist of that sycamore on the corner of Walnut and Lime, spiraling upward through the forest of city buildings toward the light.
3. Tabea’s kombucha. She has a magic touch. I am loving this little bubbly jarful of chai-flavored deliciousness.
4. Teachers, again: Yesterday we went to the Science Festival at the Lancaster Science Factory. There was an exhibit there which was running two 3D printers. We were there when they started printing out a ratchet, using the exact program which NASA sent to the International Space Station a couple weeks ago. This caught Ellis’s attention and he stood there at the table–asking questions and watching, and telling other kids about it–for most of the hour and 39 minutes that it took to print it. The people at the table were kind and gentle teachers, understanding his quirky obsession and blessing it, delighting in his questions, and never talking down to him. If he grows up to be a scientist or engineer, I will credit this moment as important in that. In the end, they gave him the ratchet.
5. Kestrel on a cornstalk, wind in her feathers.
May we walk in Beauty!