Living is a constant practice. Living without seeking perfection.

Lately, I have been with grief (see above post). Like a gloved finger to an iPhone, grief is barrier to getting in touch. Preventing me fully connecting with love, fullness and basic activity.

If living was perfection, I would want to perfect a feeling. The unfeeling of grief. The feeling of walking as if your feet are in tune with the same rhythm of your heartbeat and brainwaves. The feeling of energy flowing in a manic maelstrom settling only for everything around to fall in place.

Living as a practice allows a dedication tempered with kindness. The kindness to readjust your expectations in the context of being human. Today practicing connection, kindness and grit doesn’t mean entering the world full of laughter, creativity and activity. Today the practice means staying in bed, seeking cuddles and sitting in quiet. Maybe I can’t take off the glove of grief in this storm just yet, but I will let myself fumble until I can.