I'm thinking about a lot of stuff this morning, trying to answer my angst with calm sanity, with openness of heart.
I am also cooking sausage and grits and have a pan of biscuits in the oven.
Mr. Moon got up before I did and went to Monticello to pick up his deer sausage from the processor's and he also early-voted and I am proud of him for that.
He pulled back into the yard just as I was opening the hen house to let my chickens out. I found one perfect brown egg right by the door, dropped by whichever hen it is who does this- just drops an egg wherever she may be, never taking time to sit on a nest.
So. Fresh sausage, grits, eggs, biscuits. Not a normal Thursday morning breakfast but he's going up to Georgia today and I won't be making his weekend breakfasts and, well, fresh sausage, right-out-of-the-chicken eggs.
I've already cried this morning, reading what May wrote in her comment on my last post. If I think about it, I will cry some more.
Of course I will think about it.
Sometimes your heart is just too full not to overspill out the eyes.
Today is one of those days.
I am thinking of the energy of the universe and wondering if it changes when a baby is born, when someone dies. We know that the amount of it cannot change but I think that the balance of it can.
Rodd died, Liz Sparks' son and his wife had a new baby girl.
And colors. I am thinking of colors. Tie-dyed reds and purples and yellows, and baby girl pink. Brown of eggshell, gold of yolk. Red of Bradford pear leaves as they fall. Green all around me.
This is a day I plan on taking minute by minute, as if there were actually any other way to do it. I plan on being as easy with it as I can be. Delicate, even. I feel a strange and powerful need to let the balance of the universe's energy be as undisturbed by me as I can.
Is that even possible?
I don't know but I am going to try to dance lightly.