Risking Love

I knew I was getting old when I no longer always got up from the floor on my first try. I remember I am old because I no longer assume I will always get up off my contemplative couch on my first try. To choose life on the first through last try may be as simple and as complex as to not choose death, To choose to trust enough to take one more, perhaps final, inhale. To choose life also includes risking love, another gasp toward compassion, even a shaky clasp on forgiveness, indigenously wise mercy, relentless curiosity, ancient hope, However fragile wounded insufficient for more grand standing than one more bold inhale of Earth's organic sufficiency simplicity solidarity. It feels as wrong to define my mourning self by my failures to love us on my worst arising days I feel aright to creatively redefine our meaning with unearned compassions for riding along on Earth's most grace-filled timeless co-arising SabbathPlace, My daily liturgical experience rises and lies each day and night recycling in-between sufficiency of one last grateful inhale predicting one more first graceful gift exhaled Exhilarating exciting exiting and entering small sufficiencies empowering love's enlightening curious co-arising wealth of loving healthy passions.