You can’t take it with you. But what if you could? What if the keeper of the gate allowed one personal carry on? What would you take with you?
As sunlight diminishes for the next 47 days, I hope you find the words, the moments with company, and enough light to hold you through the melancholy that comes, because, every November, melancholy comes.
So, here’s that last tip about recognizing us, knowing when it’s really one of us. If the message feels like anger or fire, it’s not us. That’s you and your injured ego. If the message feels like a warm embrace or a sweet lullaby, chances are it’s one of us. And when you sense us, remember:
Maybe one of the lessons or reminders this week: even when it’s a lot, I can field those grounders, stay on my toes, even pivot and reschedule all the people for a retreat. And even when it’s a lot, it’s not all bad.
in the flood of light that follows us out, our heart lifts,
and we carry the light to the next visit.
My Mama Nick is proof of the power of the small dash, a modest life. Even a small country woman living a simple rural life can change lives. Her tiny n-dash (–) shaped mine.