There is something in my heart this morning that calls me outdoors to one of my favorite spots footsteps away, toward a beautiful song on my earbuds at max volume, toward my laptop keyboard to see what comes to pass upon the white screen, that makes this breeze so extra powerful to me, sentimentally. There is something in me so hard to detect, so impossible, it seems, to translate to earthly language, yet demanding to be noticed and yearning to have a voice. Or maybe the inability to give this voice is the protective barrier, for as much as I love words, I would give up verbal and written language any day for feelings. My eyes are tear-glazed, but it is neither sadness nor joy: it’s the necessary culmination of both, all of it, I think. It’s an understanding, though I know nothing. It’s the recognition that life is beautiful, with all of its highs and lows, with all of my past and present, with all of my freedom and powerlessness. It’s a surrender and a faith. It’s a trust that someday we will have an enlightenment that will explain all we have questioned and experienced. And I’m sure that enlightenment will not be revealed in words.