Then the Star Said....

I unfold a lawn chair for a sunset sit and am surprised by sadness. My mind files through its recent rolodex looking for answers to 'why?' Is it because for now I sit alone or because I just listened to a radio interview with John Mellencamp discussing the theme of mortality in his songs?

Then I open the August issue of Southeast Antiques, a magazine I've never seen prior, but I picked up earlier today at Lulu's in Watertown. The cover story, "The Art of Eskimo Carving," caught my eye but for tonight I open it at random and see "French Flea Market Finds." The line that finds me reads: The French know how to enjoy the moment, how to soak in the simplicity of day-to-day life."

I smile, then take a sip of red wine, hear a distant bird sing above the hum of summer cicadas, notice three bats flitting about and one lone star watching over us all.

I'm grateful to be able to feel even sadness, especially if my open heart can hold the space for a closed heart, a heart closed by hurt, longing to find its way home.

Moments pass. The star remains. How can I feel so far away while the star literally so far away feels so near, nearer in this moment than I am to myself?'

Then the Star says, "Distance is a story humans tell themselves, a story generating longing, loneliness and sadness.

Hold my light while your light's dim and feel the distance diminish."

I do and it does. This is a beautiful shift.

-Dawn! The Good News Muse, 20 August 2010