Fragile Times

There is a crooked tree out the window that keeps catching my eye. There is blue sky and yet there is rain, and it seems to be a day of contrasts in so many ways.

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I have bubbly local music in my ears, and there is impassioned, light convo going on around me in one of my favorite coffee-fueled spaces. All of this, and my heart feels heavy knowing what’s going on across the ocean, around the globe, heck even here very much on US soil and in all our own backyards.

The Brussels news is the the first thing I saw this morning on my phone, and I’ve been avoiding the real news all day, because I don’t need to (don’t want to) see the details. It’s deja vu, and it’s too much. It is too awful, too sad, too scary, too too too.

So I bury my head in the sand a bit in today’s semi-sunny Seattle bubble and try to live out those mottos of seeing the light and being the light and yada yada yada, even though sometimes words like this seem silly in the midst of such confusing, fragile times. I focus on who I love and what I love and how I can extend any amount of love into the spaces I enter to make this often dismal, sick world even one ounce lighter.

It doesn’t feel like much. (At all.) But at least it feels like something.

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