Sunday in love

The sunlight pouring into my house this Sunday noon feels holy, cleansing, like a message to release the burdens of the past week that have been weighing so heavily on my heart, and to look at the larger truth instead, which is love.

I'm feeling such love for everyone, for my husband and mother and family and friends, for all of you here, and especially for my children, a love so huge my heart feels like it's going to burst from trying to hold it, and tears spill because the feeling has to find a way out. Can one have a transformational experience alone at home on an ordinary Sunday? I feel as if I've pierced a veil, as if I'm floating, as if I'm high, almost, on love. I might sound a little touched, but I don't mind this feeling that has invaded me this bright and quiet Sunday. Not one bit.

Alone at home, I watched a movie called I, Origins this morning. My husband was out in the cold doing a loving service, handing out hot soup and sandwiches to the homeless people who live in the park. My son was at work, and I was deliciously and guiltlessly on my own, going inward, restoring my own spirit. I had started to watch the news but quickly changed the channel. And then I found this movie with no stars I recognized (except Archie Panjabi), about a molecular biologist pursuing evidence of past lives through the distinctive patterns of human irises. To me the story was really about the persistence of love, and the idea that we never truly lose those we have loved. There were some plot points I could have taken issue with, but mostly I gave myself over to the story. And when it was done, I looked around in my home and noticed the light, and all the heaviness of the past week just lifted, and I had the rare awareness of being wholly in the moment, and it encompassed everything. And right then my daughter texted me a silly funny video, which of course was as perfect as it gets.