Simply In Love
A sycamore is preparing for her winter sojourn. She’s gently dropping her leaves. Curling they make their one and only flight onto the dappled sunlight on the pavement.
It’s tee shirt and sandals weather. A cool breeze around us, the waiter looks tired. Hopefully because he had a wild Friday night. You never know how the people working in your hotel or restaurant are being treated.
The son of the owner, a kid maybe six years old just takes a tumble headfirst down the tiled steps of the restaurant. Landing awkwardly the shock making him scream with pain. He’s holding his ribs.
The staff pick him up and guide him out of public view. I can hear his voice inside, he recovers quickly and emerges with his mum, he’s holding a cuddly toy.
Lives unfolding. His subconscious will record the event.
Somewhere a soul is arriving. A new life forming in the soft places. Another departing.
As if in confirmation an ambulance rushes past siren blazing.
A stillness emerges like a bubble in the to-ing and fro-ing. Voices become gentle and beyond the noises of humans you can hear bird song. A speaker blares out bland pop music. A fork clatters on the ground and a guy takes numerous phone calls. He’s a naturally loud baritone.
The bubble bursts.
The coffee is bitter, almost undrinkable. I drink it anyway: The waiter asks if everything is okay with the coffee and of course we say yes.
A man in his fifties approaches wearing a T-shirt that says “Simply in love with her” and an arrow pointing to his left. But no one walks beside him.
Maybe he’s in love with the city.
As we turn to leave the same guy is sitting on a bench under a tree talking to a male friend. The arrow proclaiming their love.
It’s nice and funny.
I’m wanting to dive deep into the silence, so after coming back to our room, speaking with a client, I sit for meditation.
It’s much quieter down here in the depths. You bring some of the peace back into the world with you when you surface.
I call the angels to hug the humans who need it. You can do the same. Angels are here to serve humanity, and life can get pretty bumpy on the surface of the planet.
It’s ego telling us we can’t connect to the divine.
We can.
When we do we’re connecting to ourselves.
The leaves that fall at the foot of the tree will nourish her as she rests. When she awakes, new leaves, another Spring, providing shade for the people who drink bitter coffee laced with sugar at the tables below.
I hope the guy will still be wearing his t-shirt. Sitting next to a sycamore tree.
Simply in love.
With her.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey