It's good to pay attention. And, sometimes, it's nice to be awakened.
A line from a quirky little film stuck with me last night. In "Martian Boy," John Cusack, playing a sci-fi writer, marvels about our ability to find each other and make a connection--with absolutely no expectations in return--as a way of anchoring ourselves in this incomprehensibly massive universe.
And so, I think of all my anchors today, those glorious, human, imperfect, forgiving people who keep me solid. And filled up. And very much alive, even when my toes go numb beneath sheets not yet warmed.
I really am pretty much the luckiest person I know. What I lack in fashion I make up for in friends. Where I lack in abilities, I am held up by family. Good people, everywhere I look.
And maybe--finally--in a season too often filled with cheesy songs and discounted merchandise, I'm feeling just the slightest bit blessed. Aware of my surroundings again. And this flood of love pours over me, pooling my eyes as I type this.
Who am I to be so lucky? And yet, who am I to turn my back on such things?
Seems my own advent season has begun this morning. In my chilly basement, surrounded by worn carpet and fake wood paneling. No more taking for granted for me. At least not today. No, today I will take with eyes--and heart--wide open, filling myself up against a future I have not seen. Confident, as always, in the good people who surround me.
Take note. I am paying attention again.
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