Pondering: The Small Things

The small things. A grain of sand. Bumblebee wing. Baby’s laugh. Child’s tear. Are they so small, really?




The small things. A grain of sand. Bumblebee wing. Baby’s laugh. Child’s tear. Are they so small, really?
Travel is a portal into new and old worlds. We remember ourselves (past, present, future) when we cross thresholds into the unknown. Getting lost in order to be found. Strolling to encounter our soul.
My knee taps against the kitchen cupboard while I write. Aslan my cat stirs his food. A truck rumbles past, then silence returns. I am here now. Here in this space that is everywhere, that contains each mile I’ve traveled and every tear I’ve shed.
What does it take to be yourself in this world? What is your courageous act? What does it mean for you to be you? On this day, my courageous act is to sit and write in the midst of an active yoga class.
“Music expresses that which cannot be said and what is impossible to keep silent.” Unknown