I woke up, made the bed, got a coffee, and sat back down in my sunny bedroom. Not quite ready to hit GO, just kind of organizing my thoughts. Glancing over my shoulder I saw the still-hanging-over-the-headboard holiday bulbs already in action.
The bulbs were throwing prismatic colors in perfect size & shape replicas on the wall behind them. It was a little after 7 a.m. on a still winter morning. Fueled by caffeine, sparked by sunlight going through glass, I started wondering.
Just what does "going through" something mean anyway? On this life's trail we are only wisps, here & also there (quantum-wise), spirits in the guise of solids. Also competing emotions, trapped inside bodies.
It's a wonder we get through anything at all. Or do we, really?
I got through the first year of the pandemic, shades of desperation notwithstanding. Made it through my last birthday, older. Fixed a bathroom drain, proudly. Got a new dog, thought about what's next, threw a bone to the hungry hound snapping at my ass from the past. Grieved losses, cursed what I couldn't accept, kept moving through the days and nights.
But did I get to some kind of "other side" of all this? Life is so not linear, neatly straight-lined. Where it counts, down there where the spirit meets the bone (Miller Williams), life is pretty much an imperfect circle. We're in it for the holy-hell ride, both sacred and profane curves on the trail.
Do our actions always cast beautiful shadows? I think not, but I know this: our job is to keep trying to do good as we go through life. By helping others, sharing kindnesses, loving with all our might, taking the time, making the effort, sharing the cool breeze in the heat of trouble, laughing.
Aiming to add beauty to somebody's life, as they go through it. Because it matters.
It was about 7 a.m., and glass bulbs in my bedroom spread beautiful prisms of light. We've not taken down those holiday bulbs yet, hopefully we never will.
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