Morning:
One of my hopes for my sabbatical year was to take a "sabbatical" from my life in Seattle. And though I have only been gone for three weeks, I feel the tug of my past, leading to fears of my future.
I am sitting on the front porch of my hotel, watching the street scene in front of me. There is a brick fence about three feet tall, then a metal grate ending in sharp points, protecting the hotel property from intruders. This feels like a metaphor for me right now - watching through a metal grate, my intentions not clear, my commitment half-hearted.
So I did what I often do - look at my notes of quotes and insights that I carry with me, reminders of lessons I've learned and have to keep relearning.
"The only gift we have to offer in this moment is our undivided attention. . . . Why wait for the last few hours before offering each other our presence . . . (Parker Palmer)." This is a good reminder for me to remain present and give each moment my undivided attention.
afternoon:
Now I take refuge behind the grated porch. I bought a big piece of plastic for my beggar lady so she and her kids could sleep at night during this rainy time. It seems the word got around. Now I have 2 other women hanging on me. I literally had to run away, but still they follow. It is very sad.
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