I played at Yankie Creek Coffee House yesterday.
New songs. Old songs. Others' tunes.

While singing the hymn, "I'll Fly Away," I heard some soft humming along.
I didn't know what to expect when I invited everyone to sing the chorus with me.

So many voices.
Singing.
In harmony.

I'll
fly away
oh, glory.
I'll
fly away
fly away
in the morning.
When I die
Hallelujah by and by
I'll
fly away.

- jlt

Part of my journey of returning to self involves journaling.
At night, when my mind runs most rampant, I settle it by trying to articulate everything that's swimming around. All my anxieties, my burdens, my goals, my observations...
I write out my prayers.

Lately, in spite of my fears of how to navigate this new state of things for myself, I find myself writing out praises. Words of thanks. Gratitude.

I am grateful for the mist that hangs low in the morning.
For the home I've been given.
For the darkness before the sunrise, when everything is quiet and still.
I am grateful for the ritual of sipping my coffee, wearing wool socks, and curling up on my couch.
For the sound of turning pages, for listening, for thinking.

I am thankful for rest.

I feel like my life is experiencing this great exhale in preparation for taking in something new.
I am being readied for more space to create and observe and express.

And I'm grateful.
Grateful for all of it.

- jlt