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Suspended

Because of our routines we forget that life is an ongoing adventure.

— Maya Angelou

Perhaps if I had a moment suspended between this thing and the next, I could swing upon it, like a spider from her thread that enjoys the interruption of the breeze as she makes her way down from the bow of a tree.  I think I have those moments, brief and silent as sighing, I just need to notice them and let them do their work.

Suspended, a bit of a poem:

There is a comfort in predictability.

But routine is indefinable apart from chaos.

The dance of the unexpected and the everyday

Is displayed in those brilliant, breathless seconds

Before dusk

When the everyday occurrence of the setting sun

Stops me in the driveway, garbage bag suspended

Waiting for its predictable drop in the can

While I marvel at the surprise in the sky,

The salmon hue on my skin and the

fathomless expanse

just beyond my nightly chore.

So, be surprised and embrace the interruptions that jar you out of your routine. Roll the windows down, have some fun and sing along with The Cars:

Uh well dance all night and whirl your hair
Make the night cats stop and stare
Dance all night go to work
Do the move with quirky jerk

{the Cars, Shake it Up, 1987}

Are you caught in a life-defining routine? Are you open to seeing the interruptions as a gift?

Stranger than Fiction
blogging imperfect prose with Emily:
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