There is a soft breeze drifting through morning light, a dove fluttering by, the industry of traffic humming in the distance, and an insistent woodpecker hammers out his intent. There is the man of smiling brown eyes I found so long ago, and his gently hilarious approach to life. There is the good cheer and by necessity, calm industry of my tall son who has learned to live with what could be perceived as a limiting condition. There is the friendship of my son and his bride across the way, who share creative pursuits and forward goals, while contending with the onset of disease. There is the love of my daughter and her bridegroom, a few mountain ranges away, living creatively in different sunshine. There is the knowledge that this daughter is stepping down from tall mountains today, choosing to live fully in the face of what could be only debilitating disease. There is the story of the friend who helped her reach the second mountain peak. There is the story of old friends who remind me of who I have been, and new friends living similar conditions, who remind me who I can be. There are unspoken words of wonder, and the shifting mystery I find in studying Tibetan Buddhism. There is the wonder of gazing skyward at night, of looking forward to winter evening walks under a sparkling velvet canopy. There is the at once cautious and bold doe who steps out of our woods, watching us watching her, glancing back for her fawn.
Sleepless nights and difficult mornings followed by trying hours can easily dictate the chronic condition. I prefer to appreciate the IS.
There is the simple act of kindness that touches another soul. There is laughter shared, truths exchanged. There is the possibility of possibility. Always. There is IS.