Words My Soul Has Sung
The words have been bubbling over these last few days. Phrases as smooth as jazz. Thoughts as profound as Socrates. Words that have warmed my insides and turned my thoughts to you, my beloved readers, friends and sisters, over and over again.
And yet I didn’t pick up a pen or open my iPhone notes. I had this sense that, even if only for a moment, these beautiful letters strung into words strung into sentences strung into inspiration were for me. That it was enough to let these phrases bounce around inside of me, gather my soul together and, when it became too much to contain, burst into laughter in the middle of a busy sidewalk or alone in my hotel room.
Abundance. The words in me, for me, were abundant this week.
The sights and smells and sounds and skies — abundant.
The music and art and beautiful bodies moving in the black box theater — abundance.
The quiet room with the bright white sheets and perfect bathtub — abundance.
The deep reminder that I am braver and more capable than I imagine — abundance.
The embrace that is a world so much bigger and richer than I alone can ever be — abundance.
So now I put my fingers to the keys, hoping to capture the words my soul has sung this week. And there is a mesmerizing mystery in knowing that some of those words that rolled and bounced though my body, as my small feet struck the pavement, will never come to the page. I remember now that, in a deeply spiritual way, this love of words and stories and creating with the little language I know is first of all for me.
There is enough for all of us. Enough words for me to keep and enough to give away with great generosity. Abundance.
The city reminds me of this. So many people. So very different. Each and every one with a story that would shatter and redeem us in one short breath. And yet all there together. Walking and eating and laughing. Abundance.
Yes, an abundance of pain and questions and heartbreak, but so much more an abundance of life and kindness and the spark that comes when eyes meet and the handshake, the hat tip or the slight smile acknowledges our shared humanity.
It is stunning to me how the tiniest of human interactions can birth life in to this world. How a “thank you” or a door held open can change me. In a world bursting at the seams with people, I am reminded that abundance is not like an Easter egg hunt. The goal here is not to fill my basket to overflowing with cheap dollar store candy. No. Abundance is when I drop my basket altogether and look right in front of me. Abundance is when I stop collecting and start connecting.
My mind is racing, my heart aching trying to figure out how to capture this place my tired soul has found rest this week. How do I take this aliveness, this awareness, this abundance from these racing city streets and occupy this space come Monday? Can the flowers be this bright everyday? Can I live with this intention and this connection day in and day out? Could abundance be both a gift and a discipline?
I plan to leave my hands open wide when this plane touches down, praying, begging, hoping that God might be kind enough to continue what He has so evidently begun. And with open hands tomorrow morning I am going to show up in my house with my responsibilities, ready to do the work of paying attention and shedding the things that keep me from seeing the abundance right in front of me.
Photo credit: Grifmo
