The weather (random unedited thoughts)

Is weird again. And it feels strange to be commenting on it in such times but maybe watching the sky makes sense,in a way.

There are times when I feel cloudy with thoughts and worry and I turn my eyes towards the sky or down to the dirt and watch an ant. I think thoughts and lament things

but I also just sit there and let the breeze tug me awake.

I remember all the skies I have loved under. And all the people who have loved me under them. And I give thanks for what has worked. Because my brain wants to do the opposite and see what doesn’t and doesn’t it have reason.

I think of children hurting and I think of big humans hurting and hurting children. And I think of how I have been on the receiving end of hurt and I pray that I haven’t given any (but in my humanness , I am sure I have, intentionally and unintentionally and here I am with all of that).

But the world is bigger than that and smaller than that, too. There are pains that feel senseless and have no name. Aches that have fractured and lost generations.

and I use to think my body was the bridge that needed to carry the kindling to change it all.

But I only set myself on fire and harmed my own goodness. So here I am.

There is a world that needs to change or is a people that need to change or is it a me that needs to change?

Or is there another truth. One that needs a new perspective. Not Twitter fingers or judges with eyes or thought pieces but feelings and beings and doing.

I’ve read a million books that talked about forgiveness but until I saw it’s evil twin stomp my soul— I didn’t really care about it.

How do we swim when it feels like we are wading through rocks and thistles?

Who do we become in the cloudy hours if not more ourselves then maybe less (and that is okay, too)?

Could we just be? And allow that our being is our becoming? Or is there another story to tell?


Whoever you are at this moment. Whoever I am. Whatever we are sowing into this world we have to abide with it, did it up, repot if necessary…trust that our lives will bear evidence of good fruit.

And rejoice still …that our fruits may be small

But “they will fill the hungry with good things” , still. And we are hungry , too.