Light Falls

The bright light and warmth of June is already pressing down today, giving depth to my movement through this morning. A sleepy baby brings pause to my activity. In the stillness, my memory is drawn to the luminous intersections sparkling in my heart - they are flight trails from this past week's new patterns of friendship, celebration, heartache, hard work, and gratitude.
A dear friend embraced me last night and told me I am radiating happiness these days in person and word. She's absolutely right; I know and feel it. My life is abundantly blessed and my cup continually runs over with ease, spilling out in words on a page or spoken affirmations to friends or other creative expression. I have never felt so generative. Most moments, my spirit feels like its wings are stretched in achy release with miles and miles of space to soar, the winds of possibility lifting each feather.
However, this work week was particularly trying. The subject matter of the program I've revised - a module on incarceration and prison reform - is gut-wrenching; it is impossible to forget the stories and realities of people in prison when I am "off" work. Ongoing news of my black brothers and sisters' continuous oppression evokes helplessness. My baby boy's sleep habits have been challenging - thus, my communication with my partner has been strained. I have been tossing in a sea of hormonal tides that make no sense. I have not been able to connect with friends with whom I have long wished to share time. My body is still sore from surgery. I am tired.
Listening to the drumbeat of Michael Franti's lyrical mysticism recalibrates my perspective: "It's the sound of sunshine falling down..." Even the light descends. Trees stretch to the sky. Sink down, lift up - it is the ebb and flow of a meaningful, engaged life. In one of her poems, Mary Oliver asks the ocean in despair, "What shall I do?" The ocean, she says, "in its lovely voice," replies to her, "Excuse me, I have work to do."
What I marvel at most is that a community of people have collected around me; they trace with loving fingers the lines of light that carve dark recesses and add dimension to my days. In summer's night, fireflies glow. Falling to fly, each up and down of the wing causes motion and mystery.