Holding the Space

Each day I hold this morning time for being and for creation. I’ve written a number of little poems, I’ve done some painting, I’ve taken a lot of walks. Today at this moment, I feel lost and lonely. I miss my friends who have left town.

I look out my big window and the maples are still, the leaves half-turned and looking motley. I feel like that—unfinished, half-turned, waiting for a season to change.

And in another breath, when I let go of the need to make this into something, it is just time, my time, and the space opens up between me and the maples. It is all good just the way it is. I guess it’s this re-finding that I need to practice.