I learned
my wholeness from my feet.
Planted firmly
on the cool grass of spring,
my bare feet sent me a message.
“I am your balance,
your place on this earth.”
Is this a February wish
for green lawns and dandelions?
No matter.
I have longed for true balance
found only when
I nestle my toes into warm sand
~ there I go again with
that wishful thinking ~
or (sigh) in winter,
flat on cold laminate.
Wherever my feet are placed,
my wholeness rises up from that place
as a vine of roses climbs a trellis to the sun
When that filling up flows through me,
my being is healed in the moment,
my cricket-y knee may be a little slow
to catch up with the wholeness of my being
but gentles with the wholeness of the earth.
“Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means
embracing brokenness as an integral part of life.”
~ Parker J. Palmer, author
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