Whisper

Whisper

There is

–the bed sheets all tangled, ripped from their mooring in fitful sleep.  Time to wash them.  Carrying armful downstairs, adding detergent, hot water pulsing in the washer.  The faithful machine clunks, clunks, clunks in the basement now, washing everything clean.

a part of me

A sink full of dirty dishes await water’s majesty.  Time to suds them up, lather them, renew them.  Water succeeds to cleanse where other methods fail. 

that wants everything

I sip hot coffee mixed with fat-free creamer.  It swirls down hot and full and good.  Even though it’s after noon, this first cup still tastes like fields and hot Amazon sun.  I see laborers with coffee beans in their palms.  I drink their tears and sweat.

wants everyone

Underneath a heavy plate red onions and radishes pickle in vinegars.  Soon they mix into quinoa and sunflower seeds and perhaps cilantro for lunch.  The sun shines through the window illuminating patterns on the kitchen counter.  Quinoa cooks.  Twenty minutes.

wants to connect to every person in the universe

I ran to the mailbox a few minutes ago.  Must reach the elusive box before the mailman arrives!  Hurray!  Mission accomplished.

wants to meet with the preciousness

A while ago, meditating on the couch in pajamas, far too late toward noon.  What if someone comes to the door?  The world silent, empty, full.  The words disappearing into the cusp of the moon.

of every single person

This morning, blended fresh juice.  Papaya, pineapple, orange, apple.  Fruited glory in a glass!  Dreams of papaya swirl upward through the fog of dawn.  Never forget me, the papaya whispers.

every day

What is it within us that refuses to allow the beauty of juice, meditation, mailbox, quinioa, coffee, dishes, laundry to not be enough?  Why must we want more?  What spirit sits unsatisfied atop the washing machine, churning, demanding more?  Always hungry, it flies upstairs with gremlin wings wanting pizza instead of quinoa.

and cries

when it doesn’t happen.

i put my arms around her now.

it’s all right.

it’s all right.

it’s all right.

 

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13 thoughts on “Whisper

  1. What a purely wonderful musing blog this is. Interspersed with, a cry, and sigh, a prayer.

    It is enough, even when it doesn’t happen the way we expect!

    I am Love, Jeff

  2. Kathy I know this place you write of so well… what a beautiful pure, clean capture of the clattering, clanking moments as they bump into each other from within and from without.

  3. Sometimes it seems like the American motto is, “Too much is never enough!” We can’t help but absorb a little of our greedy consuming cultural mindset. How refreshing to read your playful reminder that joy comes from gratefulness for the simple things of life!

  4. Beautiful, so beautiful…tears (mine) and a deep recognition! Blessings to all of us who have experienced the same longing and asked the same question.

  5. Thank you all for your own whispers. For the voices of all of us who want to be heard beneath the clamor of our ordinary days. Blessings to all the voices of our selves. God bless ’em, every one.

  6. Kathy – The energy of your words resonates down to my very core. This is a very deep well that I will drink from again and again. Thank you.

    Laurie Buchanan

  7. Oh this is so much on my mind these days; and allowing it to sink deeply in, is having its good effect. I am feeling more satisfied, more present, more able to recognize and enjoy the company of those boys who share my life with me.

    I can’t seem to slow down enough to satisfy me.

    I want to enjoy touching and checking and unfolding each piece of clothing; as I put it in the washer, a little stain, oh here’s the spray. No one else who occasionally does my laundry gives it such love.

    The dishes, oh each night I carefully prepare them, give them that quick pre-wash, before going into the dishwasher. Why do this ?, when it works so well, but it might not on this one, my heart says.

    My food, yes, I want to embrace it more; and on my “good” days, I actually make the time. I would rather cook from scratch that accept the dismal, weird taste of convenience.

    And I have the luxury of, is it way too often ?, spending many morning hours, not bothering to change the PJs.

    But mostly I want to join you in this –

    “meeting with the preciousness, of every person, every day” that I am blessed to know exists.

    Thank you especially for that reminder – that each is so very precious, as to be worthy of such thoughts.

    You are such preciousness, Kathy.

  8. Deb, this is a precious comment! My heart thrills to know that you are experiencing so many days of presence and meeting the preciousness of your family and friends. (Some day it would be great to talk on the phone–sorry we keep missing one another!)

  9. Well, I’m late to this, just now getting over here and perusing though this blog of yours.

    This particular post stopped me sill. I had to read it a couple of times. Then a third time all together. Because I’ve been longing so much lately, for somewhere else, something else. And it helps to think I’m not alone and someone else sometimes feels that what is isn’t enough, though clearly it should be.

    Thanks for the thoughtful, carefully crafted words of truth.

    • Dawn, thank you for coming by this little blog to read. I particularly like how this whisper turned out, too. This afternoon during meditation I looked out on the forest for a long time and wondered again, “Can these be totally completely fully ENOUGH?” I think it’s possible for all of us. That’s my dream, anyway.

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