windthread

back.    They fill that bench seat across the Everything Table.     

To sit here as it becomes  DARK,   looking over at them,   i am grateful.  Being lost in thinking about consolation,  to console,  thinking about What is it?,  that wants consolation?   How is consoling different from fixing,  or working through.  the nuances of human ache and longings,  endurances and on and on…it's a whole realm of things to wonder through.   it's Good Work.   

i woke way too  early this morning because MOON was IN MY FACE  and just lay there.   Letting whatever wanted to float through and after a long while,  i could hear the Monday Trash Pick Up Truck down on Old Olive as it moved and flipped the bins to empty them  then moving on.   I thought about the driver of that truck,  how his day begins VERY early and in these dark days So Early it seems and it's Cold.   I  "saw" him moving slowly and methodically along  with precision.   This is his work.  his job.  How he  "makes a living"  for himself and/or his family.   6 days a week.  i am pretty sure there are times when things pile up on him,  when he'd  "rather not".   But he goes on.  he continues.   Does he have something that consoles him?   Was he consoled as a child?   What do these questions MEAN?????   What do I MEAN?   Console.    Does he?    Does he know

that he is longing for something that can console?   Would it matter?,  if as children,  this need was identified for us and explored?   

and what if i wondered about this as i move through my world,   like down at Lakeside Market,  the parking lot that is always so busy with all manner of humankind,  and what about the young woman cashier with dreadlocks and a bandanna mask that's never over her nose,  but i like her a lot.  I know now that her grandmother prefers mandarin oranges and she does too.  How does she console herself?   and….does she need to?   I wish i could just ask her,  but it would hold up the line.    

but just the thought of wondering this is Goodness for me.   For instance,  the woman with the cardboard sign at the traffic light the other day,   AnyThing Helps.    I took hold of Tay's collar and leaned out 3 dollars,  and she looked me directly in my eyes and said      in the softest of voice    God Bless.    It was the same.  the same as Cynthia's  Gentle Day.   What might She tell me about consolation?

I am loving this.   Softly.  with Care.  going slow with it.   What i feel it is doing is pulling me in,  closer,  more gently and with a kindness of intent to all of us,   this humanity now,  careening headlong into some kind of future that we probably can't Fix.

Unless we can learn to console ourselves.  Ourselves.   To quiet and be just ok?   or….what????

so much more,   Thank you CatherinE.    and Thank full that cloth is my loving consolation,  my uhhhh,   soft silent joy.  Just in itself,  torn or cut,