I wear two hats. One propels me out into the world to do battle for others. The other sits silent on my head in a corner of a room and weaves words. Both hats fit well and are often admired. One slept in my heart for decades while the other spun circles over my head, sent chariots to the sun, and reached for the stars.
When I am wearing neither, I knit, or bake, I love, listen, sing or sleep, read, or hug children when they stray close enough and belong. I am happy and I am sad. I string years into a necklace and wear it proudly. Sometimes I wonder, but most often I put one foot in front of another and advance, leaning into the future and taking comfort from the past. The world is always ancient and always new. Time is evanescent. Loving is everything.
Sighing, I reach for a hat. The weaving of words makes a pillow for my heart. The hat sits neatly where it has always belonged. I will eschew battle for a while, or two, or three. I will let my head fall back and see if there are stars. I will see if I can weave the cloth of life with words.
When I am wearing neither, I knit, or bake, I love, listen, sing or sleep, read, or hug children when they stray close enough and belong. I am happy and I am sad. I string years into a necklace and wear it proudly. Sometimes I wonder, but most often I put one foot in front of another and advance, leaning into the future and taking comfort from the past. The world is always ancient and always new. Time is evanescent. Loving is everything.
Sighing, I reach for a hat. The weaving of words makes a pillow for my heart. The hat sits neatly where it has always belonged. I will eschew battle for a while, or two, or three. I will let my head fall back and see if there are stars. I will see if I can weave the cloth of life with words.