A Single Dust Mote Taught Me How to Live

Extraordinary lessons in the ordinary

In this house of worship, dust settles through afternoon light. I long for perfection but it doesn’t last more than a moment. Then comes a speck of this or that, an ache, a discomfiting thought.

If there is no rest in the evanescent, where then is the perch from which all can be lived? Lived with ease, with delight, with something beyond a searching heart?

Maybe this is the universal thread of dissatisfaction that binds us all? Even my mother said nothing lasts, though her hands grasped at the world.

I somehow sense there is an acceptance that holds all things with a knowing tenderness. It is close by, a turn of the mind away.

If I fling the door of life open wide, the stampede of elephants still can’t fit through the gate.

Become bigger.

Relax into the door-less home, the wall-less world. Accept that life, lived moment by moment, is this then that. And wanting more is just wanting more. Nothing more.

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