This morning the sun was pouring through the bedroom window, shining through the little row of crystals hung and perched on the sill – I woke to rainbows on every wall, and in stripes across the ceiling and in northern-light-swirls across my floors. It was blindingly beautiful. I woke to a world where anything is possible, and felt entirely grateful for the peaceful joy, for the unexpected moment of dreamy clarity. This is a sign, surely!! This New Year will be THE ONE!!
And then I left my bedroom and smelled something so horrific I wanted to hurl myself out the door and sprint down the street never to return. Relocating was the only reasonable option. Seems Gilligan had a rather astounding stomach issue ALL over my house while I lay curled in a rainbow.
Seriously, New Year? I gag my way through the morning clean up, opening windows (yes, it was that bad), rolling up rugs, washing towels. I slice a lemon to help clean the air and consider sticking a few slices up my nose. I light a candle or twenty and alternately worry over the little guy and wonder why the hell I ever agreed to get a dog.
What a dramatic shift that was – to walk over a simple threshold and find reality so entirely altered. Which should I hold onto? Which will shape my day?
Well, shit happens, and always will. And really, the more I wake up, the more I see that all that’s glorious has already spilled in pools of light across my world. So I think I’ll let each moment have it’s due – on either side of the threshold, I choose to be alive
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