Late last night, my sandal-shoes and I were treading down the blacktop with a foil-covered, cream-colored bowl of recently roasted pumpkin seeds. Warm ceramic radiated in my hand and I sighed. Then, a flash lit pink a distant cloud high above the mountain's sleeping form. At first, I thought I was dreaming or that the day's busy-ness was getting to me. But - alas! - another soundless sunburst bubbled into a brilliant blush and then deflated, disappearing almost as soon as it had formed.
Turning my head to scan for more thunderheads, a scintillating star grasped my suddenly vacant view. My husband would probably tell me that it was a planet, not a star, since it shone so brightly. Nevertheless, it's singularity struck me. No other dazzling dots poked through the night's draped veil - save the happy moon.
As it often does on a moonlit walk, my mind wandered. I strive for independence and often cringe when I need help with something. But, my son Joseph reminds me that we are born with an inherent and very strong desire to help. If I do not allow Joseph to help when he wants to, he is hurt and upset. And so too with us adults.
If we assert ourselves and don't allow others to walk with us in this life, then we're going to be like that lovely, but lonely little luminary. Likewise, we have to give what we want to get. Unless we break down the barriers of doubt that linger in our souls like sucking leeches, unless we dare to share our scarred and bruisable hearts, unless we take the step that everyone around us dreads, we're going to continue spirally into ever-expanding singularities. Personally, I have experienced enough singularities watching Star Trek Voyager!
And you, friend? Is there an area in your life that needs pruning so that you can more fully experience life with family and friends?