Inspirited

It's the final day of calendar summer.  As I drove home from work, the far bright moon and the far brilliant lights of the Minneapolis skyline begged to be admired: pieces of a matching set, cold and glittering.  I love to inhale this cold and glittery air and then exhale it, magicked into a warm human vapor.

Tomorrow will be the first day of the week as well as the first day of the season.  I have reason to dread it.  There has been a serious muddle.  All week it has been dormant but prominent, sitting like an evil egg in the cozy nest of my community, and tomorrow it is going to break open and release its cache of consequences.  Those consequences will be long-abiding guests that we must accommodate with all the grace and generosity we can muster, for how we receive them will define us much more decisively than any words we could speak about ourselves.  

I think again about the clarity of the air I breathed tonight, how it quickened me. I think to myself that, in all that lies ahead, if only I could be like that to those I encounter.  Just a pure, clean, life-giving presence they can effortlessly inhale, and then, inspirited, generously breathe out as a gracious human warmth.