Horse Shoes and Hand Grenades

For once, there was no confusion. Heart, body, and mind aligned with a resounding "Yes!". If something interesting was happening, if some life was going down - all of me wanted in. How rare! How completely, helplessly in love with the moment. Laughing for the absurdity, the joy of breath and heartbeats, sweat and mosquito bites, chipped nail polish, hair, hands, sternum (oh sternum!), spine, hips, leg bones. The impossible tickle and texture of grass covered in morning dew. The siren song of smell, taste, touch. (ah, smell!). This is not all there is, it is not even the most important. But for a lovely, loved moment, it was enough.

Morning. A morning when the sand has already run through the hourglass. When forces are not gathering - not trembling on the potent verge - but dispersing with a "whoosh!" to the four corners of the earth. A morning like this is no time for beginning.

Possibility remains. A hidden land. The voluptuous, undisclosed country of the imagination. It is a secret joy. An inner talisman I hold against difficult times, boredom, sadness. Friendship remains. Art remains. Happiness remains. Creativity remains. Memory (oh yes, thank God, memory!)... remains.

And having so much, I open up my arms, I spread my palms to whatever is coming. I laugh and count myself lucky. Something amazing almost happened! Maybe something amazing did happen. Almost... only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades - so the saying goes. But no matter what angle I look from, I call it a ringer.