where there’s a peaceful sound, lonely souls hang around

doorbells

when the dust settles near the table legs again, the ordinary life can change into a meaningless one.  in a twinkling it goes from flight to plodding.

at times like these i look for a star to hitch my wagon to.

a business plan, a person, anything outside of myself that is shining bright.

i’m distracted by shiny things.

and the ordinary can become a kind of shame.

when there is nothing special about life, it turns.  i grab the broom and the dustpan again, it can seem that there’s nothing special about me.

someone else’s life is looking pretty good right about now.

silver

i’ve done that.

i’ve been a vacuum, sucking up someone else’s accomplishments, walking so close beside those who are shining, that if you looked fast our way you might confuse the two of us.

star hitched.

but, hang it all, it doesn’t work.

consuming one another doesn’t fill up a life.  funny thing about vacuums – they’re never quite full.

and now it’s christmas and the promise of consumption until you’re finally satisfied looms.  the let down after the paper is torn and the meals turn into to dirty dishes looms as well.

if you’ve lived long enough the let down can start as soon as the christmas music does.

gold

could there be a better star?

a peaceful notion about ordinary days.  a way to see what makes up my own life and believe it’s enough.  no scarcity here – only abundant, generous mine to say thank you for?

want and poverty come into every life.

even lives filled to the brim with have and riches.  there is a stealing that i’m not going to open the door to today.

i’ll shut it tight against the cold wind blowing and i’ll see who’s inside.

i’ll really see them tonight.

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