Life Suspended
From the couch where I nurse our baby boy, I see a photo frame with images rotating of G’s and mine adventures across the world, displaying a known time that seems to have been.
Looking down from that same corner, I find an unfamiliar life in my arms and a single image that I want to keep. The profile of our baby boy’s face. The way his chin, lips, and nose impress my breast. The softness of his head and hair. And the fold in his neck.
I currently reside in between these two vantage points, suspended between the past and present, intimidated by the future–wondering where from here and how while remaining myself.
Hi, All! How are you? 💙 Our baby boy, Dylan (better known as Peanut to many), was born on March 14 in Amsterdam. He’s strong and beautiful and loved.
Quote I’m Pondering
All of us are apprenticed to the same teacher that the religious institutions originally worked with: reality. Reality-insight says…master the twenty-four hours. Do it well, without self-pity. It is as hard to get the children herded into the carpool and down the road to the bus as it is to chant sutras in the Buddha hall on a cold morning. One move is not better than the other, each can be quite boring, and they both have the virtuous quality of repetition. Repetition and ritual and their good results come in many forms. Changing the filter, wiping noses, going to meetings, picking up around the house, washing dishes, checking the dipstick—don’t let yourself think these are distracting you from your more serious pursuits. Such a round of chores is not a set of difficulties we hope to escape from so that we may do our “practice” which will put us on a “path”—it is our path. –Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild
With love,
And sticky milk everywhere,
Still,
Mirha
⏳