Wednesday, February 4, 2015

February Rose

Now, this is the darkest, murkiest, somberest, coldest of all dawns.  There is a small songbird we hear every morning regardless of the color of the sky--a house finch, most likely--sweet sweet song. I remember a feeling I used to have in my heart. Like a secret, it was always there. A  sense of joy no matter what. And, I didn't have to think it there, or put it there, or work on mantras or affirmations. It, like the winter songbird, was there every day--no matter the weather of my life. I thought this was my personal companion--God, guardian angel or just a part of me, of being human. Now, it is a memory--just remembered. I do think it must still be--but forgotten. I think I can get it back by remembering how it felt in my heart. It is natural, it is real and not a dream--a spark of joy.

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