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The Day’s Delight: Honest Season

I let today be itself. It wasn’t shiny. There was no diving into divine bodies of water. No sacred fires in the dark. There was grief and incredulity. There was the sorting of words on paper and the undeniable patterns laid down over and over and over in my own handwriting. And there was a gentle surge of energy, the desire to emerge, to get a burger to-go and eat it with great satisfaction while sitting in my car on the side of the road.

It felt like that’s when the day finally began, at 6:30p.m. After that there was a visitor (with jam and kind words), a bike basket delivery (and impromptu pie), and a chat with my sister until I was so tired I really wished I had called it a night sooner.

The day, of course, lasted the whole day long. There was no waiting period, no purgatory. So often it’s time for work or other practical matters, but on a day like this, especially when the sky is obligingly overcast and it seems like there’s less that might be missed, it feels good to accept things as they are. To be a body in time, fully in season. To not try to make the Now anything else.

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