In today’s installment of what’s beautiful, I only first found what was broken, until I caught a fleeting glimpse of what laid beneath.
My son’s hair a rat’s nest, but shining through were those mischievous chocolate eyes. My daughter sitting on the car seat, a tired and irritable mess of not wanting to go to camp, and crumbs stuck to the back of ripped leggings because she had saved her cookie just for me.
Today’s hot yoga was a dusty mat and a space heater in my office, one down dog and child’s pose and savasana. But I felt the ligaments between my toes and heard myself exhale for the first time in days. I couldn’t seem to find the sacred in this body that feels ten pounds too heavy and a mind streaming with anxieties, until a poem reached from those thoughts, and asked me to play.
Yes, this heart aches to stay open and yes, there is a miracle in every filling of the atria, every systole that pumps life through me, without my asking or trying which is a blessing beyond comprehension.
I don’t think I will look for beauty anymore in what is pristine or just so because I can’t live there, where I don’t belong. Give me what is worn around the edges, dirty, cracked, tired so that I can discover gold, and remember what is true.