Stuffed up

That’s me–filled with myself, stuffed up, congested with selfish low-class problems.  If I only could, as Emerson said, “get my bloated self” out of the way.  Actually, I’m not sure he said that, but it’s a phrase that works for me.

I get so dull, so inert, that I believe life has no meaning.  Even a slight glance a the trees outside my window brings me laughter at that illusion.  Green, growth, movement, air–that’s life.  And all my contortions seeking more than that are bound to be doomed.  Making mountains out of a grain of sand.

Country-destroying earthquakes and the power of the gatherings of drops of water can change my attitude as to my little hangnail concerns.  The earth is shaking it up and our lives may change at any second.

I open my heart today to brilliance, light and kindness.