A dozen lifetimes in one day: hope, despair, redemption, new possibilities. How many layers float, “unseen” above us? If we are willing to be overwhelmed, to see too much perhaps the veils aren’t lifted but we see them: sacred weavings hit just so by the light.
As a kid I was sure ghosts were real, and I ardently wished not to see them because it would be too much: this mortal realm was plenty to try to keep hold of.
I think I’m ready to admit that although I look around uneasily, wondering if it’s allowed, what others will say, too much is not too much anymore, and it hasn’t been for quite a while. It’s harder and harder to deny that too much might be just right.