It is enough, morning

July (and much of June as well) has been all about crisis and critical care. It's been a Job sort of "how-much-can-you-take?" period, watching my mother as good as teeter precariously between life and death, at the same time that I am stretched thin by the preparations, the tearing through at a breathless clip the seemingly endless details that companion a Transatlantic (temporary yes, but still relatively long term) move--transporting my life and work from here to a there I have yet to even see. I don't know why these times, when you feel "I can't take another thing," and you get ten more, must be. But last night, sprung I think by the relief of my mother's sudden turn for the better into a state of 'overjoyment', I found myself spontaneously and suddenly at the bottom, the bedrock, the essence under it all. I found myself, so I say, in Love. And I wrote:

It is enough, the yellow sun, the ivy flower. It is enough, the surprise of moon in my room. It is enough, my feet on macadam padding the lighted path to the T, first crickets softly sounding. It is enough, the light in her eyes after so much dark. It is enough, this happy tear, this breath, this sweat on my brow and lip. It is enough, his regard, deeming me worthy. It is enough, this train taking me, that plane taking me home. It is enough to know you are happy, waiting. It is enough, the forgiving sky embracing. It is enough, morning sun pulled through yellow and white. It is enough: the sun. The sky. Morning.

For sure the words don't capture it. But that doesn't make them any less true. Suddenly everywhere I looked I saw only Love. Because all at once I was Love. I could say I was restored to Love. Just as if the avalanche of circumstances had struck me blind, and now just like that I could see again.

What did I see? What do I see?

Elegance, harmony, artistry, choreography--a Life Symphony, when Love sees through me.