Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Kindred Spirits

Jess's beautiful photo of Mt. Hood
with a poem I absolutely adore.
Click on the image to enlarge it and
read the beautiful poem.

So I had a thought tonight. It is the wee hours of morning with light thunder rumbling softly, kind of romantic. I've just gone to bring my kitty in from the porch so he's now happily sprawled out across a little bit of catnip I sprinkled on the floor.

The thought that came to my mind was a response to some feelings I have as so many new babies come into the world to people I know and love. It also relates to the parental relationship and my life as a child, an adolescent, and an adult.

The thought:

"And what is it to bring a child into this world who can love? Does it matter who they love, or why they love, or how they love? Or simply that they love? Especially when they love someone who really needs it. Someone imperfect. Someone who may not be able to properly receive or return their love.

We are all here to experience and express love and sometimes we learn what love isn't before we are able to define and express the love within us. Sometimes we earn our wisdom by exploring what love isn't. Sometimes we learn that at home, and sometimes out in the world. Sometimes both. We may think we don't welcome this learning, but as we progress through it, which can be quite painful, we find, as we grow, that it can lead us to a most beautiful place in our hearts, and ultimately, in the world.

Because what we do with our learning and how we respond is what builds our character. It is what makes us who we are. That is our freedom and our choice, as individuals."

I am learning to recognize the twinkly eyes that are a sure tipoff of someone who understands love, someone loving, someone who loves not only the world itself, but its peoples and creatures too.

If I become very wise, I hope that I may be able to let the twinkle shine out of my eyes and my heart so that others can recognize it. So that they will know they're kindred spirits, safe with me.


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