écouter.

What is it you most need to hear right now? Is it that you’re okay? That you’re on the right path? That you’ll be fine? That you’re loved, and appreciated, and that the presence and work you contribute to the world is important–more important than you could ever imagine, and more important than you’ll ever know? That your life is unfolding just as it should? That you’re needed, and that you matter? That no matter what is going on right now, it’s for the best?

Whatever it is, just listen. Just listen, and you’ll hear that message come singing through your heart, and through the Earth, to come rest deep in your being with the comfortable satisfaction of a cat curling to sleep. Just listen.

gravité.

I wish sometimes I could reach out and touch you, you who are reading these words. I wish I could put my arm around the slope of your neck, to rest my head upon your shoulder, and to sink with you into the moment. I wish I could feel the warmth of your uncomplaining body against mine, and that you could feel my own weight gently against yours, and that we could both treasure, a bit, the sheer wonder of this–the pleasure of not just touch, but of sensitivity to gravity and awareness.

It’s so available, and so easy to forget, and somehow, somehow, it’s so much more beautiful when shared.

orchestre.

Please, just breathe.

Take a moment and allow yourself to be borne by the sweet coursing of air and blood, of contraction and relaxation, and to appreciate just how deep and unconscious your trust in that process is. The perfect orchestra of your body–the throb of your heart and and the sigh of your lungs, the movements of your eyelashes and the tap of your tongue against teeth–has no desire aside than to play, but oh, how much more wonderful a performance that is witnessed? Just breathe, and listen, and know, just for a moment, that this, and only this, is enough.