Friday, January 11, 2013

Growing girl, goodness

This has been the first week of my Year of Attention, as I try to hone in on the important things, even down to the smallest element of my being and existence and the people and experiences that are intertwined within it. Strands of small miracle come out of the woodwork as you begin to gaze.

It's not all going to come easy. So often I am plugged into my phone or computer, as we all are. Within myself I know it's pretty sad that sometimes - too much - I can hardly imagine life anymore without being able to check e-mail, Facebook and Twitter within seconds of each other even when I am far away from my computer and my desk.

My childhood self who loves reading, climbing her giant magnolia tree, playing dress up with her friends, my young-girl self who can stay in her room for hours at a time with stuffed animals or Barbies or a musical soundtrack (which she will memorize) or a good book does not understand what so much of life has become these days, this screen-staring.

I haven't thought about it that way before, to be honest. I haven't put myself back in my younger self's shoes with attention.

I say with attention because unconsciously, we are still one in many ways. Maybe the most important way is that we share a sense of the sacred, of these big bits and little bits of life that spill silently and strongly and slowly into our consciousness and feel beautiful and wide and filled up with inexplicable goodness. The thrill of rollerskating (that's one I need to get back to). The wonder of realizing you know all the words to a song. Holding hands with your family as you bless a good cozy meal. Scratching your dog behind the ears. Candles on Christmas Eve and flowers on Easter morning. Warming up after a swim, whether it's to the car heater or the sun's rays. The mysterious rumble of the organ. Making friends.

May I pay more attention to my friend, my soul, the growing girl I was, and still am. May she remind me of the unencumbered moments of goodness, when staring at a phone was the farthest thing from my mind. 

The birds outside my window sound like they are chortling over a hilarious joke. It comes in waves, falling over me, the music of their chirping laughter, of their life together.

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