Bloom

I keep quiet. I speak again. There is a fine balance, it seems, between gratitude and complacency and thus between ingratitude and ambition. How to love what is, appreciate deeply all that is right in one's world, all that is a reflection of one's love, of one's perfect intent, and still believe in the power to create something more? More satisfying, more rewarding, more remunerative. Every life carries with it its own disappointments, its own grievances and sufferings, both great and small. Is it so fantastic to hope for these to fall away in lieu of the blooming dreams of my waking sleep?

Thank you, Universe, for my beautiful boys, thank you for their health and their vivacity and their ardor. Thank you for my husband, talented and genuine, kind-hearted and steadfast in his love. Thank you, Universe, for friends and family who gather 'round and hold space for our health and healing, our love and our light, and for the integration of it all, so that we might manifest what is already alive in our hearts.

I will keep doing what I do: loving up my boys, cherishing my husband, teaching with passion, writing with purpose, breathing fresh air and moving my body...and I will also create what is new. What is real. What is rewarding and makes me whole. These ways of being are not exclusive. Desire does not negate contentment. Vision does not subvert the visible.

What I am will grow and spill and bloom into the world, but it will always, always contain this present perfection. Om. In gratitude.