The deep sense of gratefulness comes out of nowhere. . .
Sometimes it comes when I fill my tank with fuel, and feel a rush that there is such a thing, that I can travel quickly, safely from place to place, and that I have the money to purchase it.
Or when Baby Wallace, our resident loner feline, so elegant and neurotic and gorgeous, comes up, jumps, and lightly lands on my chest, tucking his paws underneath one another, closing his eyes into half moon blissful slits: purrrrrrrrrr.
At the end of a long day in Hiveworld, making that left into my driveway, knowing that kitties and dinner and stories await.
Or laying in bed as the sun goes down, the last orange rays reflecting off Jacinta's multi-colored fur, every color of the rainbow.
Stretching out on the floor in the Room of Living, letting the tide of energy take my body and move it around, the satisfying pops and cracks and shifts as parts move back to their proper places.
Or today. Sessions, one after the other, all the way down to the bedrock in folks. One of those days when I understand that I am in the presence of a deep unfolding of Yes. Sacred letting go. Reminding me why I keep doing what I do. All the kitties stepping up to do their important work as resident power animals, helping to melt armor and soften hearts and make the Yes just that much easier to hear when prrps are the background harmonies. And when the sessions were all done, I got in my ride and tooled up to the coop where I used the money I'd just made to buy healthy organic delicious nutritious food for the week - fresh mozzarella, braeburn apples, whole milk plain yogurt, coconut milk for protein shakes, almond milk for coffee, rice noodles for stir fry, local eggs, banana nut millet bread, dino kale. And as I drove back home, the warm moist Carolina wind whipping my hair around, what else is there to do but smile and say: thank you Life . . . thank you for my Life.
And now as I sit here, I ask myself: would you feel as grateful if you hadn't had all that work, made that money? Yes. Yes, I would. Because there is always a little work somewhere. There is always enough money for a bit of food. And what tastes better than a bit of food when you are so very hungry?
And also now as I write this, Baby Malcolm, who is now huge, maneuvers his puma sized self down and around into my lap, managing to find just the right nook between hip, chair, and fold of leg to tuck himself into.
Yes . . . Life is good . . .
Can you feel it? Can you feel the Yes in your own living? Tell us . . . tell us about your Yes . . .