Trees are our angels
and our ancestors
with bark.

Breathing…how does my heart know to keep beating? Blessing…ending every human conversation with that word. And now: Blissing–I’ve decided “bliss” is a verb….

The dawn gently revealing that the Universe…and my precious morning birds, my trees, my prayers…are still here…and so am I! I begin my day with demo.gratefulness.org as an antidote to icky information elsewhere. It helps me take it with a grain of “soft”….

Thank you, Rob Cox. You may be a recovering this and that, but your prose in the Now is immensely poetic, potent, pray-full. I am great-full because of it.

I am grateful for my breath…the birdsong this sweet morning…the gift of endurance.

…and Celtic Naturebased prayer, to connect with the ancestors and be grateful for all they did to make this moment so real, so rich….