That last post was "typical Mel" -- long think-alouds, the kind of writing that's a running down the hill with arms outstretch bellowing "wheeeeeee!" But still: I wonder if other readers can sense the shifting I've been feeling, the growth of an interior life, a more deeply rooted self.

I like existing now. Not just "not being dead," although I like that too. But simply being. Sometimes in action, sometimes in stillness. Sometimes with great straining effort, sometimes with ease. Sometimes with quick steps of my wit, sharp mind, precision -- and sometimes (strangest of all) with nothing than just being, aware, existing in the universe in an awake, relaxed wonder. Not earning anything, not proving anything, just being.

This morning I stood in a patch of sun on my kitchen's wooden floor, right foot a bit ahead and turned out to catch the sunlight on its slant. There were tiny birds, white-brown dapple-breasted, hopping back and forth outside my door. Burnt-butter leaves flickering off the tree before the river, a strong back holding me upright, lung-lobes expanding with my breath. I stood there wordless for... I don't know how long. Started crying, because... being! Started laughing, because... being! Laughed and cried because the universe exists, and I exist in it, and this was wonderful, straightforward, terribly amusing, and very strange.

This was also the day I learned that psalms are sort of rappable, which was just pure amusement: a barefoot Mel swinging her arms around the kitchen, enthusiastically rapping out Psalm 104, and laughing when the rapping didn't work (I said "sort of" rappable, not "entirely.") And the day of sweet-glazed salmon, and the day of coffee with good friends, and quiet listening, and being -- but this time, with others.

Yep. Existing. It is good. (Good good.)