Putting words out there is how I learn – the learning comes by the way people respond (or react), if they do at all. I rarely put words out in a devil’s advocate kind of way; that seems insincere. I write what I believe during the moment of writing. I express myself with conviction but am open, eager even, for responses that help me change and grow.
I know I am connected because I understand the volatility of this spring is evidence of climate change, of the planet’s pain, of the illness of the human species’ addiction to speed and power, which are really only symptoms of the deeper addiction to the illusion of control.
I know I am connected because my life’s work is relevant, even though I am still learning how to express the importance of surrendering to interpretation, of allowing myself to come to know when and how well others understand me, of taking the risk to offer up my own understandings of what I think others mean — or want to mean — and accepting correction, improvement, and divergence as part of the dynamic process of communicating, that is, of living/becoming/being together.
I know I am connected when someone mistakes me for a nurse in Urgent Care.
I know I am connected when friends respond to spontaneous invitations, as well as when they invite me unprompted.
I know I am connected when birdsong wakes me in the early hours of the morning.
I know I am connected when I feel the shining sun on my skin and am aware of clouds casting shadow.
I know I am connected when I have teachers who respond to my whinyass pleas for support if I call out that I cannot find the balance between mourning and joy.
I know I am connected with every ‘jinx’ and deja vu.
I know I am connected when the group chi catches me and all thoughts of past and future vanish in the now of the form.
I know I am connected when people of younger and older generations find me alright.
I know I am connected when I remember my cat, and my mom, and all those I’ve ever loved and still love.
I know I am connected when friends mock my seriousness and tease me for my foibles and otherwise inspire me to laugh at myself.
I know I am connected when I continue to reach out to friends and family and strangers, whether they respond or not.
I know I am connected when sleep is good and especially when I remember my dreams.
I know I am connected when sleep is spotty or my mind & emotions are scattered but I don’t need to do anything to numb the discomfort.
I know I am connected when I’m able to enjoy simple pleasures without wanting them to be more than they are.
I know I am connected when food feels optional and I’m happy with whatever is available to eat.
I know I am connected when I am not afraid.
I know I am connected when patience permeates my senses and expands my pores.
I know I am connected when a trauma flashback rips through awareness and sends me reeling and I am able to recognize and observe it and comprehend that it will pass.
I know I am connected when I tell people what I do and they continue to talk with me.
I know I am connected when my feet and hands thrum with circulation.
I know I am connected when any or none of the above describes my experience because there are limits to language: being aware of being exceeds them all.
I know I am connected even when I am unable to discern the connection.
I am connected.