I'm sitting at my desk, finally getting around to some bills. Somehow, miraculously, yet one more month, there is still money in the checking account with which to pay all that needs to be paid. The stamps I'm sticking on the envelopes wave flags proudly and proclaim beautiful words. Liberty. Justice. Freedom! It's very inspiring.
Inches away, my notebook sits on my desk as well. It is stuffed with hundreds of pages about me and my life. Divided neatly into labeled and indexed categories, it describes me as a worker, a student, a friend, a neighbor, a mother, a parishoner, a writer, a yoga teacher, a bill payer, and more. Even as a lover, much to my chagrin.
I've tucked all the new paperwork within its pages. It is my record of me, and I am quite proud of it. Atop it sit some symbols that mean something for me. A small pewter pentacle, purchased in the magic shop, and a silver heart that reads Blessings. My Celtic rune necklace that asks for completion and closure. A divination crystal given to me by my favorite guru. And the Magician card, pulled from my Tarot Deck, the wand aloft, reminding me that with the ability to successfully and completely wield the power available to us we can all have lives of freedom.
I hope that the bills and the stamps -- the responsibility and the slogans -- blend together with these other powerful messages. I expect a good outcome tomorrow; as I said, back in April, I expect a miracle!
Excuse me, now. I have to go slip the waiting champagne into the refrigerator to chill and defrost the yummy chocolate cake. I have to start thinking of the many texts and emails, the many thanks to people who have stood by me so loyally and lovingly, and seen their hopes realized.