(ORIGINAL PUBLISH DATE: April 10th through my newsletter)
The sweetness can be found anywhere…
Filling the air these mornings in Joshua Tree… wafting out of the creosote bush in the drizzle.
It bursts from the small, yellow flowers that pepper the creosote’s branches. (I recognize it as sweetness, because it tugs up the corners of my mouth.)
I also heard the sweetness moving through the words of a friend on a video message she left for another friend who is in pain. The sweetness was in both her kindness, and her helplessness.
The sweetness shone clearly in the eyes – over a blue medical mask – of the man working at the small specialty grocery store.
It was a strong, clear transmission when he called from the register, “yes, we’re open!” And came to pull the iron grate to the side to let me in.
There is sweetness to the feel of my belly these days. It is soft and pale and I haven’t stopped to criticize it in a long, long time. It’s this sweet, easy presence in the middle of my form…
…even sweeter when I rest my hand on it.
My blue rubber gloves are keepers of the sweetness. It is apparent in their silliness with the squeaky sounds they make and funny ways they stretch, as I turn them from inside-out to outside-out and try to poke my fingers into the right places.
You see, sweetness is everywhere.
It’s in the child’s squeeze and the old man’s fear.
It’s in the shifting cloud formations, and the hospital bed.
Be alert for the sweetness.
It won’t fix or solve anything. That’s not its nature.
But it is more than happy to wrap itself around you, to be present with you, through the aches and the epiphanies of this time of unknowns…
Can you feel it now?
Warmest wishes always,
Live practice pursuing the sweetness on Easter Sunday…
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