In the Light of this Unlikely World

painted door

Sometimes little things make me so happy: the strong dark coffee I brewed in the morning, a handwritten letter from a faraway Holly, the way sunlight fills the room.  I like the hum of the wind through a window not quite sealed, and the keyboard taps of my husband at his laptop, and occasional snippets of radio song. My closet, newly cleaned and organized, is a pleasure to behold. Even a passing sight–like that wooden door in town, with its peeling paint and curious vestige of doorbell– disproportionately delights me.

When I'm in this frame of mind, the world is a parade, and I'm happy to watch it go by. If I could do cartwheels, I'd do cartwheels.I'm home, and I love being home. Cornelia came over and we walked uphill and cross-country and down to the beach, where we basked in the sunshine and looked at the sea while intermittent Gaviota gusts of wind blasted us with sand. We took note of the extravagant beauty of the day, although we sure could use some rain, and we talked about the kids and life and things we think are true. Back at the parcel we picked oranges and filled our back packs with them. We felt lavishly gifted.

Later I found a beautiful poem by John Daniel called a Prayer Among Friends that seems so very fitting, I have to share it here:

Among other wonders of our lives, we are alive
with one another, we walk here
in the light of this unlikely world
that isn't ours for long.
May we spend generously
the time we are given.
May we enact our responsibilities
as thoroughly as we enjoy
our pleasures. May we see with clarity,
may we seek a vision
that serves all beings, may we honor
the mystery surpassing our sight,
and may we hold in our hands
the gift of good work
and bear it forth whole, as we
were borne forth by a power we praise
to this one Earth, this homeland of all we love.