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you are not an accident

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Early on Wednesday: As I wake up and become aware of my surroundings, trying to piece together bits of dreams before they recede into the subconscious, noting aches in neck and shoulder, checking the radio clock to find that it’s still summertime-early, hearing birds sing and twitter, sensing overcast skies, and realizing that I’m not going to work but to several appointments … I’m filled with awe at the miracle of this daily awakening. One more day (or at least one more now). Some day, I remind myself, I won’t be waking up.

happy homerLast week’s bicycle accident (see Tuesday’s post) has made me extra aware of the preciousness of this life, of the proximity of life and death in each moment. Also the vulnerability of soft tissue: this shell of bones, and muscles, and skin I call me and mine. Walking into town yesterday, I noticed walking clear of the curb, hugging building shadows like the edge-dweller we all are, getting spooked when a car ignored the red light as I was about to step on a green-light cross walk. Reminders everywhere. And yet, and yet … I’m grateful for all of this. Grateful for the kindnesses of my co-workers, the opportunities to be of service, and the gift of another day.

In his poem What to remember when waking, David Whyte speaks of emerging from a “world where everything began” and assures us that–

You are not
a troubled guest
on this earth,
you are not
an accident
amidst other accidents
you were invited
from another and greater
than the one
from which
you have just emerged.

source: Whyte, D. (2004). The house of belonging. Langley, WA: Many Rivers Press, pp. 26-27.


One response »

  1. from N on Galiano Island:

    As I was awakening this morning, I picked up Anam Cara opened it and read on page 224 “it is a strange and magical fact to be here, walking around in a body, to have a whole world within you and a world at your fingertips outside you. It is an immense privilege and it is incredible that humans manage to forget the miracle of being here. As Rilke says “being here is so much.” … We are wildly and dangerously free. The more lonely side of being here is our separation in the world. … At death, this physical separation is broken. The soul is released from its particular and exclusive location in this body. The soul then comes in to a free and fluent universe of spiritual belonging.”


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