Sunday Secret

CoastThere are times when I’m able to see what I do and there are times when I am not. In my most brilliant moments I can glance outward and inward at the same time, making sense of what it is I’m creating for myself, what it is I’m creating for the people around me. In my least lovely moments I remain asleep to who I am and what I do.

I’ve made it a point to try to keep myself next to myself, alive and thriving.

In the scrawniest part of my soul I wish I hadn’t chosen to examine and witness who I really am. It seems easier, at times, to be a sleepwalker, bumbling down tunnels of fluff, unaware of outcomes, causes and truths about my own frenetic nature—the way I want and long for and grab at and retreat from. How many times have I wished that I weren’t the way I am?

But as I’ve gotten older and I’ve practiced the job of promising myself to be aware of what I do, I’ve grown to admire the gorgeousness of humility and the far-reaching view my open eyes give me and for the first time in a long time I can take my own breath in and breathe my own breath out and say to myself That’s Beautiful.

Yours In An Alarming Amount of Cornball,
Mushy Musherton
Mushtown, USA

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