Powerful forces are pulling at our heart. The choice to try to crawl back to perceived safety or dive under the covers and hope to wake up on an easier planet may be intense. Yet the whole time the cobwebs glisten in the sun and the geese always know which way to fly, their graceful “V” speaking of cooperation and connection beyond our keen. Yet our hearts cry out in unspoken love, no longer willing to be feed the crumbs of separation. Our secret longings too vast to stay bound by 9 to 5. The forces of break through, break out threaten to shatter all anchors to supposed safety. What cries out from the depths of our being , demanding sustenance? Can we withstand the pressure of old anchors being rippled from their moorings casting us into a sea of the unknown? So many broken hearts cowering in isolation when each of us is destined to sing our own belonging. Yes, the price is dear and the climb steep. Yet will we leave our own tender self an orphan or will we answer the plaintive wail of our own heart? The ordinary offers haven for our tender vulnerability. The steam of coffee calling us to memories of far off places, warm toast connecting us to the baker’s hands who used to knead the bread. A patch of sun warming the leg Our own arms cuddling us tenderly to a quiet yes.
