A.Litany.(of)Solace.
Halfway through my evening run; I’m sagging, slow, thick. My thoughts fizz and flatten like an old soda pop; no kick. This is the aftertaste of intensive care-giving and the steady drip of grief.
Just then, just then, as I am fading into a trot and think of calling it quits, I look out over the harbor and see, right there in front of me, a smooth sickle slicing through deep water: dolphin fins glinting fire in the slant of the sun. Everything in me stops, suddenly at attention. Standing on the high battery walk, tears from a low place in me begin to surface — for the gift, the stillness, the emptying. The dolphin rise and fall, silent as prayer. Now a rustling sound is gathering behind me. Swoosh-sh-sh-sh-ing overtakes me in waves, low and electric: woodstork going out to sea. 30, 40, 50 wingspans of white roll over me like the train of a great gown rustling over carpet. My spirit, underfoot, lifts and drafts behind them, rising into light.
So this is how we revive, I’m thinking, after spending all our pocket change. Through the lungs, an ear to the whispering sky, the wild surprise of an arc from the deep. Through an empty heart, open to the world as a begging bowl is open, suddenly filling with this pink, crepuscular grace.
Susan
Susan
Stephanie
A Still Life...A Life Still 
Yes. This IS how we revive. And the way you’ve articulated it is awesome.
Hello Susan
What an image…it begs to be painted. And yes, I could so relate to the plodding effort of a “should do” and suddenly reviving beyond all imagination through the experience of grace. Thank you.
See you at the movies!