I listened to this song on repeat this week.
Hope this Sunday you’ll make time to be in nature, listen to music, poetry, or whatever moves you.
Here’s the song that moved me. Listen before you read on.
Remembering…
I forget daily who I am. Maybe the purpose of this life is to remember. A song in a language I don't speak moves me to tears. The humming and the instruments are like home. The North Atlantic, and for a few moments there is no cold — bas ek, only one: water, sand, air, and the fiery sun. The coneflower keeps its tiny petals in an exquisite pattern — raised, sturdy A landing pad for butterflies and bees And in none of these is anyone home. I went looking for a who and came back with moments of no one there. Does the black kite hold the answer? It does not fly. It circles, held by warm air rising — something it did not make and does not maintain. It only has to stop resisting and pushing the air.
I'm curious whether this song, or anything else, moved you this weekend.
Only later did I look up the meaning of the title, the Path of Tawakkul:
Tawakkul means trust or reliance, specifically the kind where we stop trying to manage the outcome of our efforts because we're already being carried.
