I am stuck–or rather sitting–in a place of wonder.  Wonder and process of how to take care of myself so I can be open and overflowing for and to you.  Others.  Family.  Friends.  Like making sure I get the oxygen mask on in an airplane before I rush to help you with yours.  There is no way I can reach out when I am fighting for air myself.

My yearning is for willingness to pray that I love my body.  To stretch it each morning, feed it the best fuel, allow it the joy of interacting with the rest of Earth’s glorious creatures.  I treat it sometimes like a reluctant machine that is not maintained.

Before every concert the musicians gently tune up their instruments, twisting the knobs so the strings are taut, listening for the tone, replacing a reed perhaps.  Only then can they start their symphony with all their powers alert and ready.

I am packed I am showered, and I hereby nod and touch the hand of the Dear One.  This is my practice of tuning up for the day.