In August 2015, I wrote these words in my journal:
I have become aware lately, of how I hoard up my words.
Like a miser with his pennies, they never seem enough.
I have saddened myself with this discovery. All along, I thought myself lavish, generous.
For so long now I have berated my husband on his non-readiness. But look now! Here I stand, entirely non-ready!
So, if my words be pennies, I choose now to spend.
To plop coins in every empty moneybox I see.
Less tallying up their worth.
More trusting that the giving will increase the spending.
That was just over three years ago. One of the things I love most about spoken words: you just never know the worlds they will create.
SG was not even a twinkle in my eye. I was more aware of my lack than any one else’s. And it was so much safer to stay small, hidden.
Reading those words today only reiterates everything I felt when I wrote them the first time. And I love how expansive this picture has become.
For example, it is not always about words any more. Sometimes simply smiling a welcome at a stranger is generous. Giving someone time to talk is generous. Listening to the story tucked between all the unsaid things is generous.
How could you spend lavishly today?