too good to be true
remembering, forgetting
blurring, repeating?

Help me become more like this woman, Jan Richardson, author of the blessing below as well as How the Light Comes.

Blessing in the Chaos

To all that is chaotic
in you,
let there come silence.

Let there be a calming
of the clamoring,
a stilling
of the voices that
have laid their claim
on you,
that have made their
home in you, 

that go with you
even to the holy places
but will not
let you rest,
will not let you
hear your life
with wholeness
or feel the grace
that fashioned you.

Let what distracts you
cease.
Let what divides you
cease.
Let there comes an end
to what diminishes
and demeans,
and let depart
all that keeps you
in its cage.

Let there be
an opening
into the quiet
that lies beneath
the chaos,
where you find
the peace
you did not think
possible
and see what shimmers
within the storm.

carefully, love her

as your own body, two forms

formed from the same clay

Let these words lay flat
make jagged edges gentle
smooth over us both

The Big Dig, as far as I understand it, excavated Boston's infrastructure within the heart of the city. The surface roads were replaced with underground tunnels, creating more green space above and more direct access to critical points like the airport and highways. It replaced an outdated system with one that better meets the needs of modern life. It caused a huge mess for quite a long time but ultimately improved circulation along the main artery of the city.

What if our own hearts could get remodeled like that?

To dig up worn out pathways, creating direct access to our most vital points. Along fresh roads with no traffic. To make use of previously wasted space. Enabling more life both outside and in.

For me, it's been a long time coming, hard and messy work that's surely not done and will require some ongoing maintenance, but...

Lately it's felt like all this effort to clean out my heart has taken some effect. Like there's a fresh breeze blowing through those tunnels. Like the rubble has been removed and replaced with new ground.

It's startling how certain words spoken seem to land right in the center of my heart, like they were couriered expressly. Bypassing everything else, speeding along some straightaway, echoing loudly in some inner chamber. They come crashing in, reminding me that these transit lines are for (e)motion, not to sit idly just burning up energy.

I've never ridden a motorcycle, except to sit on my former roommate's, but I'm thinking it must feel a little like this. Everything that was so slow before suddenly seems so fast. And what was so narrow suddenly seems so vast.

I'm pretty sure there used to be a traffic jam here:

i thought more than twice
about fire, and chose nice
over desire