Daily Thoughtsicle

fast
fast
fast. i move. so fast.
doing,
doing,
doing,
but rarely ever done.

and in those in-between moments where every punch feels thrown and my mind quiets, a tenderness sets in. that sweet, calm tender edge of life that touches us when we are really "here." after boxing last night, then running around the lake after, then boxing again at 7.30a.m. this morning; the spring inside unwound, until what was left, is what is real.

that razor thin edge of life.

the buddhist meditation master, trungpa rinpoche, in his book Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior calls it an inherent sweet sadness we constantly carry inside when we are awake and malleable to life.

my grandpa jack, whom i named my collection after, passed away a while ago yet towards the end of his life his parkinson's tarnished away at him. he was this cavalier, gentle, biting irish humoured world war two veteran. once getting out of the car, i had to hold him in my arms as he had to relieve himself just outside his house, not able to make it inside in time. it wasn't just the seeing of grandpa-junk that had me, it was the disintegration and grace of aging. the crumbling of a man who stood proud a lifetime for a family, having to lean upon a granddaughter as the embers in the fire faded.

oh petunias. a maudlin little love this morning for your friday. :*) have a lovely, tender day.