Best offer

Earlier today, I wrote to a friend:
You know that thing where you are so tired and you make bad choices just because you don’t have the energy to do anything else, and then it turns out that those choices didn’t help because — surprise! — they are bad? That is happening here.

And that was about where I was when I wrote it: having done too much, just tired all the way through. But then I got home, and instead of falling into bed, which was the one thing I wanted to do, or pushing myself to go to the gym, I made my best offer to myself: I would eat a delicious, comfort food dinner, even though it wasn’t the most nutritious option, and then I would go for a walk. So I did. I saw a kid balancing on top of a wall and a woman with a bag so pink it practically glowed in the dark. And those earlier words came back to me, suddenly reminding me of Rumi: What was said to the rose that made it open is said to me here in my chest. Whatever put eloquence into language, that’s happening here.

Of course, I thought “Really? Can that really be true? How on earth could this help a rose to open?” But maybe it helped, a little. And then I walked by the mosque, and on the outside, it says “We sent you as a mercy to mankind and all that exists.” And I hoped that “you” didn’t, in this case, mean me, mean all of us, but I am pretty sure that it does.

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