Hello beautiful human,
Each morning I sit down and say to myself and to you “Hello beautiful human” and let the words come in their own time. It’s a practice, a sort of spiritual one if that doesn’t sound too high-falutin. It’s an embodied practice, if that doesn’t remind you too much of airy white spaces and lithe bodies stretching on mats.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that but let me assure you, I’m in the midst of clutter on my desk, to-do lists that are only halfway accomplished, and the view outside includes plenty of leaf litter and straggly straw from last year’s gardens. The visual field is colorful and crowded. The houseplants need watering. My life is jumbled and complex, joyful and aching.
And in the midst of that, in the smack dab middle, hello beautiful human.
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