Thank you for this beautiful reminder that this day has never before been seen, and will never be repeated. Recently we lost a dear sister suddenly, unexpectedly. This morning I watch sunlit oak feathers, and life becomes ever more precious.
Beautiful words, James, as always. Thank you for sharing your tender heart. My love to Brad for a speedy recovery.
As an anxiety sufferer I unfortunately don't seem to have the ability to see – in illness or tragedy – the gift of life, but rather become more anxious and try to hold on more tightly. But I come alive in nature, in time spent with loved ones, in reading and writing and dancing, in visiting galleries or museums or going to festivals or shows. And I try to start my day by being grateful, by seeing each new day as a gift. And sometimes I believe it.
It is so good you have this awareness--often a walk in the yard or in the woods (without technology) can restore my presence and sanity, as someone who is very anxious myself.
I have an incurable degenerative muscle disease. It’s a journey of loss… one does not know if today is the last time I’ll be able to do something once taken for granted… I remember keenly, that day I was unable to lift open a single-hung window for the first time. The world shrinks a little with each small loss… and, it brings an acuteness to seeing fleeting preciousness and beauty everywhere.
James, thank you for the powerful reminder of our own mortality. And fragility. Of what we take for granted. And your call to cherish each precious moment.
The fragility of life so beautifully expressed in your words James. It is so easy to take things for granted as we move through our day, yet every precious moment holds magic. Just like that moment when you kissed his forehead. Thank you for this wonderful reminder.
Now I'm thinking about loss and love. Richard Rohr speaks of both loss and love- not just loss- being our greatest teachers. This poem has me wondering about the relationship between them. They seem so inseparable. The preciousness of my beloved has so much to do with his vulnerability (and unrepeatable-ness). And the awareness of that makes me so much more in love with the spring blossoms.
Thank you for this beautiful reminder that this day has never before been seen, and will never be repeated. Recently we lost a dear sister suddenly, unexpectedly. This morning I watch sunlit oak feathers, and life becomes ever more precious.
I am so very sorry for your loss. Sending you peace and ease, Susan.
James, Brad take us (t)here.
“Temple of every moment.”
“Unrepeatable.”
Beautiful words, James, as always. Thank you for sharing your tender heart. My love to Brad for a speedy recovery.
As an anxiety sufferer I unfortunately don't seem to have the ability to see – in illness or tragedy – the gift of life, but rather become more anxious and try to hold on more tightly. But I come alive in nature, in time spent with loved ones, in reading and writing and dancing, in visiting galleries or museums or going to festivals or shows. And I try to start my day by being grateful, by seeing each new day as a gift. And sometimes I believe it.
It is so good you have this awareness--often a walk in the yard or in the woods (without technology) can restore my presence and sanity, as someone who is very anxious myself.
I have an incurable degenerative muscle disease. It’s a journey of loss… one does not know if today is the last time I’ll be able to do something once taken for granted… I remember keenly, that day I was unable to lift open a single-hung window for the first time. The world shrinks a little with each small loss… and, it brings an acuteness to seeing fleeting preciousness and beauty everywhere.
James, thank you for the powerful reminder of our own mortality. And fragility. Of what we take for granted. And your call to cherish each precious moment.
The fragility of life so beautifully expressed in your words James. It is so easy to take things for granted as we move through our day, yet every precious moment holds magic. Just like that moment when you kissed his forehead. Thank you for this wonderful reminder.
Such a beautiful piece. Thank you.
Now I'm thinking about loss and love. Richard Rohr speaks of both loss and love- not just loss- being our greatest teachers. This poem has me wondering about the relationship between them. They seem so inseparable. The preciousness of my beloved has so much to do with his vulnerability (and unrepeatable-ness). And the awareness of that makes me so much more in love with the spring blossoms.
So tender, so beautiful. Something about seeing how you love him makes me feel more love.