This morning I rise remembering yesterday when I found a place to rest my body, to witness the world and my relationship to it.

I’ve been thinking about generosity. Clearly. This is the fourth blog post with the word generosity in the title!

How do I give? I wondered. What is being asked of me? When will I know what action to take?

After canoeing adventures which left me breathless, unmoored, in the throes of uncertainty, I’m finding pieces of my identity floating all around me.

I spent most of the afternoon yesterday trying to stay with the unease of this body. My mother came to me. We wept. We loved one another. We remembered some painful events. We remembered our love. I grasp, now, at words to explain what I mean, to share my experience. This is how I live with a broken heart.

I’m aware how cautious I am to share. I’m aware how, in all my uncertainty, this is an action, an experiment, I believe is worthy. I want to point to reality. Again and again.

As a child I tried to speak out, to tell the truth about what was occurring, had occurred. My truth was not palatable. My truth revealed a great chasm. Some truths are too painful to see, to look at, to acknowledge. Forty-four years later, I received the acknowledgement I’ve been seeking since I was nine years old. I was already free from harm by then. I am waiting to know what to do next. As I wait, I bear witness to the way the world is.

“Bearing witness is not a passive act. It is an act of conscience and consciousness and consequence.” Terry Tempest-Williams

In sharing words and images, I invite collaboration. Collaboration leads to community. In community anything is possible. We are able to see what is revealed. We are able to hold what is revealed. We are able to take action. Witnessing is an active ingredient! To watch fully is to allow our presence to transform.

This is where my imagination dwells.

Presence is a generous act.

Such stillness. Such joy. Such love.