A wise woman gave me a question. “What would it look like in this moment to take one small step in the direction of Love?” It wasn’t an asked question. It was truly given. I carry it with me in the place that is the last to close up in fear or anger, in fatigue or frustration, in the pressure of near impossible
choices, in the moment when I have nearly lost myself.
I carry it too for the times I imagine I am too staunchly right.
What would it look like to take one small step in the direction of Love?
It’s sometimes possible to make this almost imperceptible of movements when everything else feels too much to ask of yourself, when everyone else’s good suggestions have become a burden. Deep in the folds of your heart this small question rests.
What would it mean, in a nearly imprisoned moment, to take one small step in the direction of Love?
What would it look like? This tiny step, fragile as dew on the grass; soft and holy as sun on the shoulder of the day.