I feel Electric when I hear the unbridled joy-song of the red-headed house finch and wonder: for how much longer will this neighborhood be hospitable? I feel Electric when squeezed between interpersonal reparation and the long arc of wound history that sometimes threatens to swallow me whole? I feel Electric when watching the small banana slug negotiate the wide well-worn wooded path, impervious to yet utterly in the shadow of human footfall. I feel Electric beneath the mind-boggling luminous full moon, wondering at her generosity season after season after season despite our human folly. I feel Electrified by what IS and what may be (be)coming. I surrender to the conchoidal ontology that allows room for broken wholeness that is All of Us.
I feel Electric when I hear the unbridled joy-song of the red-headed house finch and wonder: for how much longer will this neighborhood be hospitable? I feel Electric when squeezed between interpersonal reparation and the long arc of wound history that sometimes threatens to swallow me whole? I feel Electric when watching the small banana slug negotiate the wide well-worn wooded path, impervious to yet utterly in the shadow of human footfall. I feel Electric beneath the mind-boggling luminous full moon, wondering at her generosity season after season after season despite our human folly. I feel Electrified by what IS and what may be (be)coming. I surrender to the conchoidal ontology that allows room for broken wholeness that is All of Us.
Gorgeously expressed
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