small is all
may we remember what we know
My words aren’t new. They are echo and remembering. They are birds for those who hear their song. They are worms for those who trust what can’t be seen. They are turtle and sky woman falling. They are seeds. They are yours, too. We are weaving what we know.
I know this much is true:
How we see the sky shapes the sky.
We are closer than we think to a more beautiful world.
How we attune creates the bridge.
These aren’t platitudes. They aren’t statements of positivity or bypass. They aren’t metaphor.
They are tangible truths, congruent with the ways of energy and held in the wisdom of the spiral.
I speak of ordinary things and touchable matter.
Dreams aren’t distant.
Whimsy is clay.
A stone is a planet.
Listening is a playground.
Breaking is soil.
Visions are roots.
Silence sings seeds.
Prayer is as real as your hands and as full as your heart. It is whisper, story, tears, laughter, and dance.
I bow to the sand and the stars, the spiders and the squirrels, the shadows and the cracks.
I sing in praise of the moon—yes, the moon—who gives and receives us with each breath.
I allow the whole of where we are, the ache and the beauty, the fear and the love, the war and the peace.
Always, we are all of it.
And we are all here, together.
This is what we know. This is what is true.
Where we root our feet matters.
What we look at and listen to matters.
How we go about our days—what we think and say—matters.
Our attunement (to peace, curiosity, praise, joy, love) is real, tangible, creative matter.
It lives inside us, breathing through the small moments of our days, inviting us to stay and play in the wildflower hum of every small thing.
The all (we are searching for) lives in the small (where we are).
*
In love, Melissa
Read more:
small matters | all from small | tell it small | everything | in a moment | moment is map
