Thursday 21st April
A dear friend emailed me this Old Innuit Song:
I think over again my small adventures, my fears, those small ones that seemed so big, all those vital things I had to get and to reach and yet there is only one great thing - to live and see the great day that dawns and the light that fills the world.
This morning my small fears, my little worries, filled the cavity of my chest like spinning plates on poles, endlessly whirring round and round, never crashing.
This is what it’s like inside my head -
Is it too early to ring my father? What if he didn’t sleep again last night?
Will I be able to get an organic cucumber from the small Sainsbury’s in town as I forgot it yesterday? And limes - I need limes for the curry paste.
I wonder what my tax position is going to be now. I must ring our accountant. No time today though. I’ll do it next week.
The pussy cat didn’t eat all his food last night - what if he loses more weight?
Will my husband write the letter he said he would?
Will two meringue roulades be enough for thirteen people on Sunday?
I'm afraid we are drinking too much.
I see how I miss the beauty of the day outside through this ceaseless chatter of my mind. How I miss the light that fills the world when my eyes are turned inwards to the darkness.
And also how grateful I am to a dear friend today who held my feet and sang high clear notes of light into my shaking heart.
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