Some dear friends said the sweetest things to me this morning. Loving me.
I’m about to ride Cheryl. When the wind whistles through my helmet, I sometimes hear whispers mixed into it. They tell me to enjoy. So I do. Not because I was told. The whispers are just pokes at my consciousness, making me aware that I already AM enjoying the ride. Among those whispers, too, are reminders that it’s ok to feel. They’ll mix together with voices I’ve read this morning, that it’s ok to feel, and express feeling. The mix is like a swirling pot of love. Then I’ll be overcome, and not notice the whispers. I’ll just enjoy loving me