Prayer. Feet. And the beauty.

When things are turned upside down and my insides are confused, knotted, these feet seek out the sand. The grains of time that set my body clock ticking again. A sanctuary that means no fighting kids, no internet, no decisions. Picnic packed and sun hat blowing in the breeze. The roughness of my edges softened, if only for these few moments.

And the beauty.

Rocks stuffed in our pockets, sand dripping from our toes. The prayer of the ocean. Remembering for a moment... almost feeling the butterflies of the first time we kissed.

Under the sheet. The wait. The reason I miss most appointments and am kicked out of practices. Sitting there, half naked waiting for another person to walk in fully clothed and talk to you as though this is normal. My feet go numb. I twist them and lift them until the blood moves again, matching the blood pounding in my heart. I leave with a urethra sore and aching, tests that try to discover why this loved 37 year old body is incontinent and often full of pain. I can heal. I will heal. I am healing.

And the beauty.

Looking in the mirror, silently remembering the prayers and blessings sent from this gorgeous community to my bladder and my spirit. Forgiving myself the slight ache of seeing the scale higher than previous comfort zones allowed.

The meditation circle in my little backyard. Needs dirt. Plants. A statue. My summer altar to sit at and sip coffee or calm my body. An early birthday gift to myself. A place to think of others. To send silent blessings, yes, I'm talking to you. Living in 900 square feet with three children and a dog creates a most desired longing for warm months. To extend living space and in a sense, my spiritual space. And yes, I so want to rearrange my living room around, something new for the summer solstice.

And the beauty.

Each day I walk closer to my spirit's calling. Prayers found in tea bags. Rocks from those beaches, lined up outside of my little bungalow. An introverts words, steps, breaths, time, silence, meditations while holding steaming mugs with painted nails.

And the beauty under your feet? Where are your prayers found?