… when nothing much happens, nothing spectacular anyway. just one thing after another, as on other days. It’s then that the little things grab me by the nose (or ear, as my stepmom used to) and say, “Listen!”
And so it is today. Someone wrote to say “thank you for all you do” and another asked for advice on “where should I go from here.” Then a note from the monastery about “scattering Alex’s ashes,” that lovely man, painter and dad to two sweet kids, who died from some degenerative brain thing. And a friend sending a picture of her love bird named Bean (“because he looked like a green bean when we first got him”) who fell off his perch, twitched a bit, and didn’t survive another seizure. “We wrapped him in tissue paper and buried him in the garden under a flower-pot — after the dog had given him one last sniff.”
Just another day, eh?! There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground, Rumi says. I’m grateful to be disturbed in my slumber.