In no particular order:
- Music (and the right song at the right moment)
- Writing a poem
- A good pen
- L’infinito — “sovrumani silenzi e profondissima quiete”
- My daughter’s laughter
- Powell’s City of Books
- Keeping an acorn in my pocket
This, too, is part of the repair.
I’ve still got my oars in. Still trying my best to listen to myself (my particular self) and catch those subtle variations in the voice that mean a good thing versus a hard thing or something-from-now or something-from-another-time and what does it all mean.
It’s hard. A lot of things are crowding together and trying to be heard.
Ten true things I can rely on. They make up most me-est version of me. A bit like Havi’s naming things but I’m naming the internal furniture. The pieces I can reach out and say yes, this is mine and feel a little more whole for doing so.
Wholeness is good and true, too. Consider that the hidden eleventh thing.