Begins with assuming:
No special privileges
No certainty of infirmity
No guaranteed treatment
Neither limits nor the absence of limits.
And believing:
Only that every day is the only day
Only that every day, every task, every trouble, every meeting is a gift.
That I am capable of doing more
Or something else in a new way.
That my heart is capable of being bigger, softer,
That I can be an improving friend,
Savvy about the workings of the world.
That I can push myself to eat better, walk more, think more carefully;
That I can try new things and learn, over and over, the exhilaration of trying.
That I can make a dent in the fear, anxiety, self-centeredness–the fences of my construction.
That I will address the need in front of me as much as I look to some “out there” good I could do.
That I will live only in gratitude.©
I wrote this page of thoughts on a Sunday morning, July 25, 2010–more than a dozen years ago. Winter’s sorting brought it back to my attention. And I find it more relevant now than ever. More timely. More undone. More unlived.
