A chilly Sunday

Waking to a brisk 12 degrees outside, knowing that I had made plans to meet a friend downtown for coffee at 8. 

The stillness of the Hill in the wee hours is nice- it allows my brain to wake up and make contact with the divine in its own way. Coffee helps.

The drive was peaceful. Starbucks wasn't busy at 8am and for that I am thankful. We met and chatted for an hour, catching up on our weeks, checking in as we do. This ritual is a lifesaver. I miss it when my schedule interferes. We departed and regathered with a few others. I heard exactly what I needed to hear. Bagels afterwards alone allowed me to process. Another friend joined me. I got to see what gossiping looks like in a grown woman. It didn't fully hit me until later, but there are such unfortunates. There are those who can stuff a spiritual void with drama. Ain't nothing pretty about a 50 years old lesbian drama king. 

So I sit at home now in front of the fire. I smile. I sip my coffee and watch the cats soak up the radiant heat. Lessons learned. Teacher abound at every turn.

MPS posted an article about a caregiver during the early AIDS crisis that made me cry. I remember such beautiful people, and I am thankful that they existed. The article should be required reading for every human. 

I venture outside and watch  and wonder as the sky is banded- the sky reminds me of photographs of Jupiter. Striations and swirls. It is beautiful. Snow is coming. Firewood has been split and hauled. A pizza is in the oven. Life is pretty damned good, actually.
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