July 16, 2017
I’m becoming more and more conscious of how hard it is to ask for help. I’m more and more a witness to my insistence to go it alone, handle it, not appear weak or needy.
I’m more and more aware that I AM a little weak, a little needy — it is part and parcel of being born a human and not a character in a movie or tv commercial.
Perhaps the most beautiful prayer of all is this. Help me.
Help me make the coffee. Help me feed the cat. Help me breathe in and out, full breaths, all day.
Help me remember it’s not all about me, people are mostly good, and it’s all small stuff after all.
Help me eat, help me move, help me brush every tooth, aware of the privilege to brush them.
Help me see beauty in ordinary things and in the mistakes, the misfits, the missing pieces.
Help me stop talking, stop ruminating, stop believing I have to fix it.
Help me stop. Help me pause. Help me rest. Help me nothing and nowhere and just because.
Help me help, reach out, be of service, pay it forward. Help me create a ripple.
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