Luminous Moments

7th July 2011 Thursday

Some luminous moments in a day that I thought was packed too tightly to even catch my breath -

Opening a card from my father with a photo of an adorable rabbit on the front nibbling a clover leaf - he’s thanking me for the feel of his clean sheets and his fruit basket full of pears and my hugs - I think such small things to do for him - but they tell him he is loved, not forgotten - his kindness to me breaking open my heart.

Sitting with a dear friend in our living room with a pot of Earl Grey tea - we are both too busy in our lives. She tells me how, as women, we lose touch with our intuition, when we are exhausted, stretched, stressed. I feel the truth of it in my bones - the loss of it - that deep knowing, that inside listening - my wrung out rag doll flopped on the floor waiting to be kissed awake.

Thinking about the small helping of left over blackcurrant crumble in the fridge that I made for yesterday’s supper with two gorgeous women. I’m saving it for my husband. But I sneak a wine red spoonful anyway - the sharp tang of the fruit and the sweet almond topping are a match made in heaven on my tongue.

Loving the feel of my husband’s healing hands on my head, my eyes closed, sitting in a circle of friends, haunting and familiar Indian music entering and softening my racing heart.

Catching sight of my dear sweet sister coming through the barrier at the station from the London train - and later feeling her sadness, her loss of herself in her new retired life as we share a pot of tea at the table and the fat bar of hazelnut chocolate she brought with her.

Being kind to myself - trusting my intuition when it's time to stop writing - which is now.