(Photo: Part of my route with the: PIT count, January 2019,

In little glimpses of where you are coming from, you describe your childhood to a friend:

how you spent summer nights sleeping under the tamarisks, on the cool lawn, with the chickens pecking at you in the morning;

how your sister and you’d ride your ponies with the neighbor-girl Dawn, how Dawn lost her thumb, how you hardly learned to ride a bike;

how you’d invite friends over to your “pool:” four old plastic trash cans you’d fill with water you’d all stand in and chat;

how you had dozens of cats (and, in the rare photos you have to recall those childhood days, there are cats and cats);

how you, an awful budding violinist, would perform concerts for the horses;

how you aren’t frightened by darkness or solitude or most of God’s creatures;

how, even now, a middle-aged woman in the city, you find ways to celebrate the beauty all around.


For January 16, A Year with Rumi: Daily Readings offers:

“Let the Beauty We Love”


Today, like every other day, we wake up empty

and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study

and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.


Let the beauty we love be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.


What are the hundreds of ways you celebrate beauty?

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