Love, In Little Parcels

Today is Sunday and I slept in, awoke refreshed to bright sunlight and words from last night’s conversation a hazy blanket of contentment, assurance. Now I sit on the cool concrete of the driveway, bare arms soaking in rays of light filtering through the swaying trees, raped deliciously by the sun. Every querulous fiber is satiated into a great glowing golden peace, and I feel there is nothing more than this moment.

It seems this happens every so often…the forces of the world come together in a thunder crack of understanding and I peer into the window of infinity, binding the passage between heart and mind. I am a feather of perception, unbodied.

I think it’s time I get serious about taking myself lightly. Too often I live in fear that I’m falling short of some abstract perfection. Life becomes a form of safeguarding or conquering or boasting. Thinking I can “attain” happiness with a given situation or accomplishment is a fallacy. Happiness is not a fleeting possibility, a means to an end. It’s not a “something” to attain. It’s a feeling that no matter what the ideas or conduct of others, there is a unique rightness and beauty to life which can be shared in openness, in wind and sunlight, with a fellow human being.

I am not perfect. And perhaps I won’t be famous or wealthy or renowned. But I will give of myself and my passion in minute homeopathic spoonfuls to the world. I can give my love, in little parcels (and perhaps the occasional baked good), and this just might be enough.

Love can melt doors.