Two weeks ago took a walk to a favorite cemetery spot and sat on a stone, looking at the ski slopes across the valley. My gaze strayed down - a warm day for this month, perhaps thirty degrees. Spied, next to a tombstone, just peaking out of the top of the melting snow, a pair of sunglasses. Pulled them out, only after several minutes realized that they were my sunglasses - had never missed, had dropped who knows when, maybe months ago - no worse for the wear.
Otherwise, a bit busy for revelation, am missing it. Waiting for dust, or snow, to clear. Would be good to find still and wonder in midst of these sorts of times, it's available, I know.
Sharon Estacio, who visited and danced with me this week, chose this week's rite. In fact, she's the one who gifted me with this spinnable, smackable cymbal Jesus.
