This was brought on by a moment of (probably naff - be warned!) poetic fantasy - as I pictured myself lying in a pool of water underneath a dark night sky, watching the moon and stars glittering overhead. I could feel the surface rippling around me. I was looking into the darkness of the sky and the vast expanse of the universe, and realising how small I am. How small; how nothing; yet how everything. How, in order to be found, I must be lost. (I was also trying to focus on feeling rather thinking, as a way of investigating my being-ness.)(I know, I know, FFS! Bear with me...)
So small and yet - how precious! Because if each of us is as big/small/everything/nothing as I suspect us to be, then, within the vastness of that common denominator, how incredibly equal we must all be. And, therefore, who am I to be any less precious than anyone else? Ta-dah! Magic!
I find myself doing stupid things. Things that my phoenix will squawk and go on about for ages. Things that, to an outsider, might suggest that I believe myself to be somehow lessthanprecious.
More about that, another time and place.
But for today I see this looking back at me from above, meeting me in the eye: I am precious.
(I would like someone to wrap their arms around me. Tell me I am precious. And be prepared to take my kids to the park for a bit at some indeterminate time in the future. Maybe.)
*Read: 'here and now'; may be gone in a trice or lurk awhile
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