Some days are harder than others.
Some days I wake up tossing and turning from nightmares in which I and my many children are in little canoes on a river and the current is separating us no matter how hard I row.
Then I call and comfort the sick and scared; and pray with all my heart in meditation that little 3-year-old Oliver and his Mom pull through.
And when my heart is too full I walk.
Through a beautiful morning full of birdsong and whispering trees, with no other humans in sight and fragrant spring blossoms perfuming the air.
And I listen to the birds. And I look out through the blue skies and wispy clouds to the clear blue water of the bay.
And I pick some flowers from my garden to bring some beauty and peace indoors.
To gain some altitude.
To remember that time and physicality are ephemeral and that life is in a never ending cycle.
I go back to remembering that I love my life; and I head back inside to pick up the threads and keep on being myself and doing what I love to do.
And I videotape my grandson and share posts and texts with my friends and another day flows by.
Still, some days are harder than others.