Asking for the Bee

I shared a story with a coworker about witnessing a frog leaping from the creek to gulp a bee and how, moments later, the frog spit out the bee. She asked, “was it okay” to which I thought she meant the frog but as it turns out, she was asking for the bee.

Every moment is a teacher and I need not make any form special. Trees, dogs, people – when they occupy a zone called “special,” I usually open more access, which in turn, allows tremendous growth and healing. It's not not a good thing. However, what would it look like to offer full ingress at every moment?

I learned as much about myself from my work mate's question as I have from those I knight as special, and it is a reminder that healing dialogue is universal. It is not bodies or feelings. It is not preferences or attachments.

Yet I still ache sometimes.
I prefer.
I raise and lower boundaries.
I get stuck in that which blocks the free-flow of Love.

Sunday morning brings rain as promised. The coolness, a salve; its gentle intonation, a reminder to rest. Yesterday's work in the flower beds and gardens felt restorative. Kyle surprised me with a new bird feeder but the only customer I've seen so far has been a black capped chickadee. He is as brave as he is friendly. Maybe it's supposed to be like that.

This soft time in the mornings is so hard to relinquish. Yet the ink eventually runs out and one must get to living.