My own little cloud of breath hangs briefly in the frigid morning air and then is gone.
Another breath,
Another disappearance.
Yet,
I am still here for another day.
The wispy gray cloud of breath,
So fleeting,
Exists and vanishes in silence.
So quickly,
One might ask,
Did it really happen?
Was it really there?
Breath,
Like silence,
Leaves no evidence.
Trust your own silence not to require any monument but simply,
In this moment,
To exist for its own sake.
Come home to the engine that produced the breath.
Feel your lungs expand and contract as they take in fresh air from the universe,
Send it throughout your body,
Then expel it back out from whence it came.
No need to think about it.
The process is built in.
It happens day and night,
Here and now.
Emotions,
Like breath,
Come and go and often leave no sign behind.
As natural and necessary as breathing,
Our anger,
Sadness,
Joy,
Grief,
Astonishment flare up and out into the present moment,
Then die away to nothing,
Leaving room with the next breath for the next feeling.
And under this cycle lies the spirit,
A compassionate witness,
Sometimes a laughing companion,
Reminding us of who we are,
Remembering us as a dear family member,
One of our own.
May you require no evidence of your life today except life itself.
Your gift today is to be invisible.