My Papa is visiting me for 8 wonderfully, wacky and wild days. It is amazing to see the passage of time throw its gossamer gauze over my strong daddy's frame. I feel fortunate for every borrowed moment, each press of the hand and smile exchanged. And although he talks about rambling and inappropriate topics, like viagara, swine flu, dentures and the obnoxious misadventures of my rambunctious two year old, with a persistence that is surprising, I am so glad that he is my Dad and I am his little bird.
When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment. It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float. It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within. It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains. Eyes closed. Eyes opened. A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being. It takes courage.
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