Your Daily Miracle: Three Things that Make Today Sublime
I posit to you several things beautiful beyond comprehension--or just within comprehension, which makes them more beautiful to me.
One. This vast new computer screen that at which I am looking right now, no longer marred by huge cracks down the left side or an encroaching disease-like pattern that, for the last six months, spread across menu bars, scroll bars, etc., so that I had to read a page in sections. This computer is the first new computer I have ever been given; delighted with cast-offs or refurbished lap tops, netbooks, and one shared desktop that went the way of the dinosaur, I am now typing on my own, my very own, computer, given to me by my family yesterday, on the auspicious occasion of a birthday in which Bea turned six and I turned six times that much.
Two. A double birthday in which you have to do nothing. A pot of tea appears in the morning; a huge and delicious brunch appears on the counters; a triple layer cake appears; several pots of coffee (ditto); and loved ones stream in the door. And the whole morning one does nothing except open one's gifts and lift forkfuls of various delicious food to one's mouth.
Three. This morning: perfect. Snow-capped mountains sharp on the horizon. Sky the color of a tropical sea. Everything in bloom. Frogs singing. Birds (ditto). Children walking along, happy and chatting, regardless of the fact that they are tardy. A phone call from my mother in which she affirms how wonderful we all are. And entrance into a house that is spotless; husband has cleaned the kitchen to sparkling, left just the right of milk in the blue tea cup, waiting by the pot to be refilled; the new computer is set up with a note beside that reads, Enjoy Your Work!
Though it be terribly unfashionable these days to uphold and celebrate all that is good in one's life, and though it also be irritating (I remember a college workshop in which a classmate basically told me as much) to describe the daily sublime, I stick to every word. The first day of thirty-six looks mighty fine. The second day may not look so lovely, but it is still today, and I love it: the peace of it, the cleanness of it, the silence that hums with the love of many people. Perfect.
One. This vast new computer screen that at which I am looking right now, no longer marred by huge cracks down the left side or an encroaching disease-like pattern that, for the last six months, spread across menu bars, scroll bars, etc., so that I had to read a page in sections. This computer is the first new computer I have ever been given; delighted with cast-offs or refurbished lap tops, netbooks, and one shared desktop that went the way of the dinosaur, I am now typing on my own, my very own, computer, given to me by my family yesterday, on the auspicious occasion of a birthday in which Bea turned six and I turned six times that much.
Two. A double birthday in which you have to do nothing. A pot of tea appears in the morning; a huge and delicious brunch appears on the counters; a triple layer cake appears; several pots of coffee (ditto); and loved ones stream in the door. And the whole morning one does nothing except open one's gifts and lift forkfuls of various delicious food to one's mouth.
Three. This morning: perfect. Snow-capped mountains sharp on the horizon. Sky the color of a tropical sea. Everything in bloom. Frogs singing. Birds (ditto). Children walking along, happy and chatting, regardless of the fact that they are tardy. A phone call from my mother in which she affirms how wonderful we all are. And entrance into a house that is spotless; husband has cleaned the kitchen to sparkling, left just the right of milk in the blue tea cup, waiting by the pot to be refilled; the new computer is set up with a note beside that reads, Enjoy Your Work!
Though it be terribly unfashionable these days to uphold and celebrate all that is good in one's life, and though it also be irritating (I remember a college workshop in which a classmate basically told me as much) to describe the daily sublime, I stick to every word. The first day of thirty-six looks mighty fine. The second day may not look so lovely, but it is still today, and I love it: the peace of it, the cleanness of it, the silence that hums with the love of many people. Perfect.
Comments
-kara
xoxo