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TUESDAY’S TONE — MAGIC HOUR

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Good Morning,

I know. It’s not Tuesday, it’s Wednesday. I am late by my own watch for this Tuesday’s Tone, but I was sidetracked for most of the day yesterday and this little piece just wasn’t ready to be popped. Finally it happened about 4am. I started to experience my magic hour. (Just ask Wayne Dyer about waking up at that time)

What I call magic hour is usually that early morning time when I just want to turnover, snuggle in even tighter, and drift back to sleep for the last several precious minutes. Instead, a copiously plotted out play carefully unfolds in my mind. All judgements, worries, and concerns of the day have evaporated during the night. The paper is clean and the pencil (remember those) is sharp.

This morning the centering magic hour thought was how fragile we are. How easily we can break. And, how broken we often can become. Stay with me here for a second, it’s not all that depressing. It’s beautiful. Several examples flooded my mind. Some harsh and mostly painful. Loss is always present: a girlfriend whose recently happily married only son now suddenly announces his divorce. Another kindhearted and devoted father is questioning his lifelong religious values as they pertain to how he raised his 23 year old son. A distant friend stills grieves the day she backed up her car and accidentally maimed the beloved 24 year old family feline resulting in his passing. I was there for that tragedy, thankfully, so I could comfort both my friend and her cat.

Then there is the dear lady I have known and loved for a long time. She is more of a maternal figure, always nurturing and caring and coaxing the best from me. She is slipping away quickly now with a sudden increase in dementia and delusions. But when I examine her situation carefully, I see a lost and lonely soul. She has been abandoned by her three children and six grandchildren, divorced once and widowed two times, and now shunned by most of her friends due to her failing mental health. She is fragile in her exterior toughness. She is broken.

I could go on with endless examples. At some point during our life, it happens. Sometimes even at the very end of our life, even in the last few hours, we realize our softness. Our tenderness. Our acceptance of having walked on broken glass.

That realization is the experience of pure love.

Sending you joy,
Jeanne

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