I suspect the truth is that we are waiting, all of us, against insurmountable odds, for something extraordinary to happen to us.
- Khaled Hosseini
"I empty myself with light
Until I become morning."
– Charles Wright, from Littlefoot
“If you try to view yourself through the lenses that others offer you, all you will see are distortions; your own light and beauty will become blurred, awkward, and ugly. Your sense of inner beauty has to remain a very private thing.”
- John O'Donohue
So, that maybe, maybe this extraordinary thing that we're waiting for, happens every day. Instead of happening to us, it happens through us. That it's possible to pour the light of who we are, the light of our own private beauty into the morning and through the whole day.
Maybe that sounds a bit cheesy. But lately I've been a bit obsessed with Humans of New York. There's a Facebook page and also a webpage. And also a book. And I think that's what the project is about - revealing a bit of the light in each of us.
I came home last night after work, nearly 10 o'clock, to find that I had a sad daughter, sad teenager. And so stayed up talking to her for an hour or so. Found that when I went to bed I was freezing cold which often happens to me in the winter when I'm out at night and drive home in a cold car. After piling on extra blankets, socks, etc, I still shivered, still stared at the ceiling until sometime past 1am. So it goes sometimes, right? And she woke up reasonably happy, reasonably at peace. And the dog/alarm clock woke us up at the usual 6am.
I'll be a bit more bleary eyed than usual today. But that's okay, too.