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Weighted


"Don't be daunted." I hear the whisper in my head. "Focus on This. This day. This moment. This task. This intention."

I glance at the New Year and look down again quickly. It's too much. Not humanly possible. Not for me.

I stare at the ceiling and consider the weight of my own responsibilities. I feel their heft. All on me.

Nothing to do but lie down and close my eyes to sleep.

Suddenly my eyes shoot open. I feel the substance of the load, but it is balanced. How come I feel it sit squarely and steadily upon my shoulders? My body bracing it? How come I am not crushed or flailing?

I lie and wait to understand before I get it. The load is balanced because it does not fall solely on me. I am yoked. There is another side.

My side, my weight, keeps me in place. Close.

"Ohhh," I sigh. "OK."

I wait for Your lead. I cannot fling myself forward or flail around blindly or throw everything at the wall or look back and agitate. My load will chafe.

However, if I move when You move? Do as You do? See what You see? Think as You think?

Oh OK. That -- I can see -- is doable.

I am reminded now. We can do this.

Together.

josie/dec 17

©2020 BY IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING