A rolling thought....

During this distressing time when some are asked and others ordered to remain in our homes for the safety of others...to close our businesses that are non-essential to life despite their essentialness to our livelihoods...one ponders that age old question again: "will this make me or will this break me?"  Some of us have been gifted that longed for time we coveted while so busy, so now one wonders what to do with that time?

If I only had more time we say.

Yet, the only one truly without enough time is dead.

So, is it lack of time or misuse of time?

Are we giving ourself truly to each moment?

Or do we muli-task and multi-tech 

to the brink of illness and insantiy?

Life is here.  Life is now.

We know that with the good, comes bad at times.

But it is not so black and white.

Every bane may hide a blessing.

Every burden may hide a gift.

Lest we stop counting moments and 

begin making moments count...

Lest we stop running circles in our minds

and begin actually moving...

Lest we keep merely exercising our rights

and not our minds or bodies...

then we cannot truly live.

Because the same tired, exhausted anxiety

 is worth continued sacrificial sleep.

And we refuse to self-nurture and rest

until we self-destruct.

We cannot measure our worth in
virtual friends, likes and followers.

Notifications and status updates cannot be welcome distractions

while we ignore the actual people who sit near.

Inarguably, connection is good and we thrive on interaction.
But we must be careful not to overfill our calendars
for fear of being alone.
Time alone need not be lonely.
It can be a time of growth.
If we took time to get to know ourself,
we could know one truly interesting being.

And while we are being,
May we remember that ideas
become vision through action.
Dreams are achieved in steadfastness.
Forward is forward no matter how slow.
We are never so far down that we cannot crawl
or silenced so that we cannot pray.
Our worst day may be
someone else's norm and
our failure is only such if we do not learn.

More, more, more is not a true measure
of time or riches.
For the only one without enough time is dead
and the poorer is he who did not live the
life he was given.
-Karen C. Davis-Solomon

step into the light

Here, a week after a severe and unexplained allergic reaction, I contemplate.  The prior Sunday evening found me overwhelmed in empathy for loved ones during the initial shutdowns per Covid-19.  A close friend had lost someone tragically.  Our neighbor had survived a horrific accident and our neighborhood was closing shops.  I called to my God and He heard me and I sent out encouragement.  One friend teased me asking if I was mistaken that it was not Monday yet, when I normally send weekly encouragements. "An extra hug," I replied.  Still, I could not shake the feeling of an impending doom.  In the wee hours of Tuesday morning, I awoke on the cusp of shock.  EMS responded quickly and ER had me tested, stabilized and back home in minimal time.  Steroids kept me stable the rest of the week, but side effects were inevitable.  I remain a bit worn but well on this side of the journey.  Throughout the week, despite any gloomy weather, I sought and soaked up any sunshine I could find...like a solar panel rejuicing!  One phrase tickled the back of my mind: "step into the light."

Step into the sunlight

from shadows dim

in mind or body

place or time.

Uncertainty and confusion

cast gray pallor

days of fog and chaos

like a long winters' night of storm.

Stars hidden, moonless.

no light nor direction, and peace eludes

despite prayer and might.

Lenten season like a dry desert

parched and tired

with moaning bones and weeping

'til misted in a dewy spray.

For winterspaast is a promise

kept each year.

Spring arrives, showing iteself in scent and bud

sweet fragrance even in damp and dank.

Surely, illness and fear and ache abound

but none need be conqueror.

For here, in our blackest moments, 

in stillness, a spark, tho tiny, ignites.

Soon, hope will take flight

 from cocoon's quiet sleep.

Here, God holds us close in oceans deep.

And faith begins growing

from mustard seed.

Planted in darkest soil,

not dark in despair but

rich in grace.

For now, rest well a bit, oh weary soul.

Trust.

Be still.

Miracles are birthing.

Step into the Sonlight at dawn's golden hour

when Peace exhales upon thee.

The shadows dim and grow in light

in mind or body,

place or time.

-Karen C. Davis-Solomon