the light is dark and yellow and i’ve been struck with unbecoming desires and dreams that can no longer be true because of wrongs she’s done, wrongs i’ve done. Klimt’s translucent kiss waves from the external air conditioning above the crooked image of a flower with rain on it. Outside, it is raining hard.
lately, i’ve been learning to tell myself the things i wish someone would tell me more often. Danielle, “you are loved”, “I am proud of you”, “Danielle, it’s not that you have a lot to offer someone, you have a lot to offer the world regardless of who is or isn’t in your life–if only you let the grace break through”. Outside, lightening flashes without thunder.
lately, I’ve been practicing silence–hoping that the need for inner dialogue can find balance with being present in a way that does not impose words upon experience.
“Danielle, you are failing now and you will continue to fail. But there is grace deeper than failure and these small fires are continual in the journey. Find joy in being refined. Find more joy in thinking and less joy in knowing. For knowing is the cessation of thinking (Maria Popova) and the only way to understanding is the hard work of taking your time.” Inside, a twice-assigned love song plays.
Lately, I’ve found it strange what wounds my consciousness–the small comments I carry and should release are not the harsh ones, but the subtle truths about myself that I wish would change but that I am not so sure can.
On Sunday, we were silent on our knees. A man said:
“Thank you Lord for the things we have & for the things we do not have.”
a liminal space 
