I want to be present where my body takes up space

Louis Armstrong, by my side, on our bed, with his beloved balls. Not pictured: TWO, not one, but two chewed-up bones.

I want to be present where my body takes up space.

Lately, that is on baseball fields, around groups of people interested in planting gardens of native plants, and right beside friends I’m handing tissues to as we both blow away the yellow pollen smothering the southeast and causing our eyes to itch and drip, making us miserable - but together, it’s not as bad.

I am taking up space in sweet community library poetry circles with elders I hope to be like one day, and in cozy rooms sitting in rows with other artists as we listen to each others’ stories.

I am taking up space in my yard, working under the sun, getting red bumps from having sensitive, fair skin and spring insects enjoying my sweat and sweet blood.

I am taking up space where I lay my body every night, and where three dirty balls and a chewed up bone and 70 pounds of pure and loyal love are always touching me, forcing my leg out of the duvet to cool down from the added heat.

I am not taking up space in my art studio, or on the hard blue chair in front of my laptop, or in any chair staring down at a screen and I’m not feeling guilty about any of that.

I am present right here where my body is taking up space and it’s, indeed, a sacred space and I don’t want to obscure any part of it.

To be swept through my days, in the exhilarating, cyclical, and proper ebbing and flowing of priorities and interests led with holy influence, while practicing the presence of God in each and every minute-filled three-dimensional movement is where I want to be.

I am coaching my youngest son’s baseball team, and my husband is coaching my oldest son’s team. We both help each other and currently spend about 6-8 hours a week playing and coaching and talking about baseball!

Duke Chapel where I attended a poetry and art-filled evening hosted by Inkwell and Ekstasis Magazine.