This week, when I was drawing plans for the year, I felt my heart tugging at my sleeve, like a child coming to the adult's table.
It told me:
I feel thirsty for the simple.
I long to drink in every moment as it is.
To eat, to eat.
To drink, to drink.
To speak, to speak.
To see, to see.
To create, to create.
To sleep, to sleep.
This way, this way, my heart points out:
The way sun and water turn into this brilliant fireball of an orange in your hand.
The way a breeze can catch you off guard with its tenderness.
The way your mom laughs like a firecracker, silent gasps of air as warning signs a few moments before.
The orchestral clang of traffic amidst dropping curtains of smog.
The afternoons where shitty first drafts run in endless circles.
The piercing crack of the heart after a loved one's passing.
Yes, this, this, my heart says. Don't forget this.
My resolution this year, if you can call it that, is to practice nothing other than loving what is. With the words thank you tipping from my lips. Because how else can I respond to the sheer miraculousness of life, even in moments that ache?
This is not the first time I've held this intention. It's an ongoing practice, probably my New Years resolution for life. I catch myself with a chuckle these days, labeling things as “good” or “bad,” creating stories in my head that separate myself from the pure dance of life.
Because what I keep finding over and over again is how resistance is not the way. Loving life is embracing what is. Every moment is more than enough. Everything is perfect if we're open to it.
