I write this morning on the verge of the miraculous, yet deliberate. Life, as some see it, is a series of breath-taking moments, while some say it is the matter in between the moments. Isn’t it really a fingerpainting of both? In any case, this morning, the details will culminate in an unbearably pure moment. My apartment has been scrubbed within an inch of its life. My hair is stripey. My life is organized. The immediate is taken care of.
A bold spiritual whisper gets its sea legs today and the whisper becomes a clear voice.