I Let My Heart Do The Talking Today

My mind was full of doubts about life's goodness, so I let my heart do the talking today.

It sent me straight to the park where the pine trees can tell me there is a Greater Spirit. Their stability of place, peace, and beauty lend credence to their message. This is why trees are my people.

The wind is just shy of blustery, and autumn leaves are plunking down with a drift and a tiny clatter as they hit the stone walkways from various angles. As I sit on the park bench, one falls directly into my lap, damp with morning, but bright with streaming sunlight. It delights me, which might have been a chaotic random act of the universe or it could have been orchestrated and deliberate and gleefully performed with precision.

My brain is too tired to commit to a side, but as I drink in the blazing finery of autumn's fierce farewell to outward progress, I definitely start leaning toward one. The straw around me is already gold; no spinning required.

Soon it will all be gone. I already see the glory thinning, and bare trees pointing spindly fingers to the sky. In blessing or curse, who can say? Perspective matters a great deal or not at all. One can grieve or give thanks, and none are wrong. None condemned.

What a cycle: to flame and then burn out. I dance around the same ring as I add more years to my own conscious existence. I rage at the divine with feelings as intense as the colors spread before me. The next moment, I'm hearing the music of hope as the wind makes stringed instruments out of reeds and rustling leaves.

I walk over to the stone fountain, and listened for long moments to the sound of flowing water. I watch as it, too, moves in circular patterns, mesmerized by the sparkling blue. I listen and I see and I hear a voice faintly calling through the thin space between my soul and the stars, and I feel the healing steal itself around my being like the soft tendrils of a Morning glory. I let it in, just a little bit. I'm slow to trust again.

I do know this: it means a promise of new life springing from letting go. It's not okay yet, this place of uncertainty, and that is hard. I need it to be okay soon, but with this, I can manage today without the okay part. I can inhale hope, and exhale with less desperation than yesterday when my make-sense-of-everything brain did all the talking.

I am feeling the hope, in spite of everything there is to worry about. I am making this promise to myself today. Take a seat, and hear the music with me? I'd love that.

Linking up with Erika Shirk for the #wholemama prompt: "hope."

Jamie Bagley