This morning I am the beneficiary of the sunrise. I am grateful for this amazing being lifting up over the Pacific, over the Ko'olau's and this honoring of us here. I begin this day with that moment of grace. I breathe it in. And start all over. And keep moving towards love. If I can get out of my head and out of the hyper-critical field I'll make it. And if I stay there I'll make it anyway, though it may take centuries more of a hard-headed path! Sometimes I start it over every few minutes.
I re-read the Ruskin post and realize that my small perception, or rendering of perception isn't the whole story. Of course, I don't profess to have the answers or to even asking the right questions. I'm grateful for any communication, for communing with an audience, a place, a people, the sunrise. So I don't mean to sound ungrateful. We were all exactly where we needed to be. I trust that, or tell myself I should trust that because it is what was or is--and maybe I need to learn to gather up the disparate parts, or even, leave them where they are, gracefully, and acknowledge that placement, gracefully.
This morning I feel stuck between the urge for gracefulness and general ruggedness. This humanness feels all too convoluted and rough. My tendency is to fight. But I return again to the race of a few weeks ago, as I have many times since, to navigating the huge swells. We didn't fight the water as we manuvered, even flew. If we had, we would have flailed and gone over. So remember that, and just be with it, I tell myself--no matter how jammed the Friday before Christmas weekend traffic is in Honolulu.
We are each writing our story, with each breath, each thought, each action.