When I’m 64

Today poem

 

My actual birthdate bordered on overwhelming, given the outpouring of love. Many know I have been through the fire and seen Glory, over and over again MCE (aka My Current Era, post Rob’s surgery).

Fortunately this 19th (four months MCE) included quietly reading one of my favorite picture books about angels—The High Rise Glorious Skittle-Skat Roarious Sky Pie Angel Food Cake by Nancy Williard—to a 6-year-old while we cuddled together on a comfortable sofa. Before that I facilitated a discussion about a more adult favorite—Wild Mercy by Mirabai Starr—with a group of dear friends, most of whom thought her book was a bit chaotic and just too wild. Does this sound like me and the Divine I know?

The next day, when I was 64 all day long, I welcomed friends to my blue room so we could pray and write and create together. The gentle advice my friend read, this time from a Buddhist mystic Danna Faulds, felt like a free gift—“When loss rips off the doors of the heart, or sadness veils your vision with despair, practice becomes simply bearing the truth. In the choice to let go of your known way of being, the whole world is revealed to your new eyes.” My response as the illustrated poem (above) was easily-created and freely-given. Now it is yours too.

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