I’m sitting with Grace by the window in a treasure trove of sunlight and clouds–of white fur and pleather cubes, and a sapphire velvet chaise lounge draped with blue-flowered and animal-printed pillows and throws. Joni is spilling over both of us and I’m trying to figure out which of us—me, Grace, maybe even Joni–fashioned this little alcove. The question fills me with more pleasure than the morning already has. Which is a lot, actually.
It sounds ridiculous, suggesting my cat arranged fabrics and furniture to create this robin’s egg dreamscape by the window. Can’t you see her dragging everything in her cunning little teeth? But if she didn’t actively arrange this child’s dream turned inside out, she certainly inspired it with her perfectly composed paws, her caramel stripes and gleaming eyes. With how she absorbs and exudes beauty.
I wake, tears slipping down my face because of yesterday’s disappointment, love lost before it could be found. But also: spinal discs slipping back into place, master healers having manipulated muscle and tissue as I submitted to magic sleep.
I feel better and worse–the human condition, don’t you know.
My heart aches: The sadness of not being held by someone I’d hoped could handle my rawest and shiniest states. Fear about my health and ragged humanity, all our future. Rage about ego, all that ego, run amok. Grace gone when we get afraid.
My heart soars: Hope and her sweet and sundry ways. Coffee, blue divan, the sun’s glorious ascent from my small city window. I turn on music and let the shuffle gods sermonize as I take their holy-holy communion. Continue Reading →