This word spread. We face it. We embrace it. We disdain it.


The fire burning on the Shawangunk ridge right above my parents’ house and the houses of friends. The smoke.
The Cancer in my mother’s body.
The poison ivy on my skin.

My list of appointments and needed appointments and tasks. My bills to be paid.
The mess. The unsavory things easily accessible to my children.

Terrorism. Zika Virus. Gossip. Despondence.

Then hope. Then compassion. These too can SPREAD.

Calls offering help. Someone handing me a $40 tube of strong ointment to try on my rash. Men and women across the mountain top battling the blaze side by side. A car ride to a procedure. A blanket filled with love and comfort. Posts on pages of outreach.

There will always be what is bad. There will be the conglomerated balls of what has not gone the way we wanted or believed it should that will trip up our paths. It is in the reality of our world, our communities, our inner circles and ourselves that there will be harsh truths and wounds of concrete and air. We have the right to grieve them.

These things deserve our sadness, but not our defeat.
We are more than the result.

There’s an essay I have been working on about the need for acceptance and planning through, or over,  what we deem as weakness in ourselves. I think this too is true of what is or what we deem as wrong around us.

We can spread our wings, our stride, our  inner vision, and our outward touch.

May you feel the spread of love around you today. It is there.


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