I call life a weaving, a story, a song ...
Or maybe a mystery because lives merge and separate, leaving marks and strands of presence that alter the future by their existence.
Sometimes I notice more than others.
There are people who shine bright to me for who they are. I don't know why it is only some, because everyone has that quality of an incredible and unique presence.
There it is. The limit.
I only clearly see a few people, as do we all, but among the many connections we form the possibility to know everyone and share the experience of it. The network of relationship.
In a way, I am made of the strands of other lives, woven in my experience of time. A nexus of the people I've met or read or encountered in others. And it is valid to meet the father in the son, the daughter in the mother, the teacher in the student, and the myth within reality, as it becomes a part of experience shared.
I contain the essence of so many individuals and, in addition, a portion others shared with them to make us capable of connecting in that way. This is all I offer ... the moving stream of connection between us, the weaving of lives.
We are always gifting each other the future, if we only look into each others eyes and notice the transition in every act, intention, and word.
My hope is to notice the gifts while making the future brighter for all who pass through my life.
Well, that is the living question, isn't it?