Listen, my heart, to the whispering of the world.
That is how it makes love to you. Tagore.
How to pass a day? Mike spent this morning researching my lymphoma with the impossible name. He put together a comprehensive document – which didn't make cheerful reading. After thanking him profusely, I sent him to his drawing board, his best way of getting to his Zen spot.
So how to be in the face of all of this information? I remembered Tagore's words and listened to the whisper. Music. The iPod on shuffle – and it chose well: two tunes from my youth when life was golden, spread out before me like petals on grass. A gift to my body as I gently swayed to “Younger than Springtime.” Then the music I listened to over here in Canada while our eldest granddaughter was being born in England. All memories of hope and joy.
Sun pennies on the pool, the trees flow with the breeze. Life is talking, soothing, comforting – if I let it.