Journal notes for 4-13-15
I do not believe in 13 as an unlucky number — for me, 7 + 6 equals 7 + 3 + 3, all my lucky numbers. Luck is nothing more than when talent meets opportunity full force.
How well we grow with each step take and I wonder how deep within the red headed finch, as she is forming the egg in her body what dreams already fly there — what wings are ready to soar in the blue heaven above us?
So too, in our daughter Caroline, pregnant and 2 months to delivery, what 2 + 2 calculation is her embryonic baby calculating — already kicking those pumping legs and tiny feet and toes, already clinging with those hands so small but mighty.
Yes, the universe is small for the unborn, yet large when all things are possible. Maybe not a poem yet but a poem in my heart to the unborn — an ode to the unborn — like the red headed finch still curled with eyes closed within the egg, or the huge sunflower tight within the seed — as with the baby in Caroline kicking now and ready to run.
The unborn are born before they are born. They know within their flight and flower and pace and run. So well we know ourselves before we’re born and our lives and times we work to return to that truthful self.
Wonder and Wander we might but when we but for a second return to egg and seed and embryo we really do know within at least who we truly are. Amen.