In the busyness of the the day, I forget that I am soul and spirit. I move, like a machine, through the mechanics of my life: Head turning at a sudden cry, arms lifting baby, voice humming softly like a washing machine. Fingers folding laundry, hands scrubbing muffin pans, feet moving through rooms, ears listening, eyes taking in the light and explaining its meaning to my brain. I am a body in motion. Nothing more.
But in the holy hush of 4 a.m., I wake and realize that my heart is yearning. To live. To breathe. To have true being. To insert my soul and spirit into the frame of my body, to make them move in perfect synchronization. To enter deeply into the rhythms of my one-and-only life, wholeheartedly giving myself to the inconsequential rituals that make up my days. I want to move gracefully around my life. To hear the clanking of dishes and the never-ending scuffle of bare feet and the irreplaceable human voices I love as exquisite, never-before-heard music. I want my body, soul, and spirit to respond as one. To make going through the motions a beautiful dance.
I want to find the beauty in my life. It is there, hidden. Today I will search for it. Today I will find that for which my heart is yearning.