I want the universe to know I can write about small things.
And by small, I don’t mean brain-clot-small, I don’t mean prison-cell-small, I don’t mean urn-of-ashes-small,
I mean, door-hinge-small.
I could write about door hinges.
I could find a story there. I see beauty there.
One time, a contractor told me that most door hinges don’t usually break, they just stop being able to do their job. They warp, they rattle, and — though the hinge mechanism holds– their job is not so simple as that, and so they are retired, dumped in the trash.
If that’s feeling like a metaphor for something, I promise you it’s not.
It’s just a small tale about door hinges. Something I could write about if I were not always distracted by big things.
I would maybe write about how the pieces of a hinge are called things like leaves, and pins, and knuckles. Words that bring to mind a once-broken-always-broken hand, holding a tiny flap of autumn, thinking about how a snapped bone or branch is often part of the plan, part of the let go, part of the try again. Sometimes hinges have a steeple top, too. It’s not always so, but sometimes a simple thought like that is a kind of prayer, after all.
A lovely thing about prayers is that they do not need a roof, or shelter, or secret knock.
Prayers are, themselves, a sort of butterfly hinge. The mechanism that swings clear of trims and trapping, and lays you flat open in front of the universe– an autopsy of the past, an accounting of soul.
When I set my heart down on the great scales, I promise:
I can write about small things.
Door-hinge small.
I could write a hinge so tiny, my whole life could prayer inside of it. I could cocoon my life down to that size without problem, without question. I could butterfly with a wingspan so small I am barely seen, with footsteps so light I leave no mark.
If I am given these very large stories only because I can write about them, if I have been typecast from my prior work, please know, please look closely at the inside of my heart and know...
I could write about door hinges, too.
Yup
Insightful, thought and Spirit invoking as usual
Thankyou
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I appreciate that. š Thank you!
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I believe you have the ability to write about anything and we would see it in a way we’d never thought of. Your writing opens eyes, expands thoughts, at times tears at the heart but always finds healing and love. You are a gift to us all!
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So very kind. Thank you for reading with love. *hugs*
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Beautiful words about door hinges. They are small things, but where would we be without them.
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Small and necessary like so many things. š Thank you for reading.
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You and only you could write about door hinges and make us realize that without them the opening of a door is much more difficult. Your heart and your words are the hinges that make opening the door of my world much easier. Thank you for the gift you offer every time you write
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I love this.
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Thank you šā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø
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This was lovely!! Yes, little things are fascinating and I love them. And yeah you š¤š¢šÆ write about door hinges. Well done. š«
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Small things are not so small after all. I loved this reflection and its many angles. š
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You can write about anything. I love this.
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Aw *hugs* thank you
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š
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Nice blog
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