After a moment, we each started to do the same: tossing small rocks at the crashing waves, a tiny act of futile rebellion against nature.
And somehow, spontaneously, we started labeling each rock with all the things that we wanted to let go.
“Being afraid” – plunk.
“Bossing my little brother” – plunk.
“Never feeling good enough” – plunk.
“Yelling at mommy” – plunk.
“Not being honest about my feelings” – plunk.---
by Jason Oke
Despite the exhaustion that accompanies the odd hour, there is a beautiful peacefulness in the stillness of our house. The sounds of sleep make their way down the hall. Snoring from three separate bedrooms -- one husband, two sons -- and the occasional giggle from a dream worth dreaming. I listen to their noises as I plug in our Christmas tree and sit quietly in its light. I decide not to turn on the computer and work. I sit, silent.
I breathe. I think. I relax. I wiggle my toes and smile. I nestle into the corner of the couch, pulling the soft green blanket around me. Nothing Earth-shattering comes to mind. I do not solve world hunger. I do not magically feel at ease with everything in my life. I simply sit. It feels fantastic.
by Jenna Hatfield