Dear Woman,

Even a weed knows to turn its face towards the sun. The dandelion looks east and the Lamb’s Quarter opens its dark green leaves to allow the light to touch every spot. The wild sage fills the air with the music of its scent when warm. They instinctively look for brightness, seeking warmth on their faces, and they turn it into air.

And so why do you seek out the dark? Dwell on the sadness? Why do you stand in the shadows of trouble while it blocks out the light?

Tomorrow worries about itself. Never fear that. People will still shoot each other and say horrible things about each other and there are plenty of people to gleefully report this on a 24 hour news cycle.

Tomorrow doesn’t need you to worry and fret and be squashed by its ugliness; and neither does today, for that matter.

Today needs you to find the nearest flower or weed, observe it, and orient your face in the same direction. It needs you to pay attention to the lovely, the miraculous, the tiny bits of art in the quiet places.

It needs you to sing like the robin and float above the chaos like the clouds, cooling what is overheated and sprinkling cool rain drops on what is parched and making shapes at which children will laugh and exclaim.

The dust and dirt kick up and choke those around you. But you, dear woman, are a crisp drink of water, infused with lemon and honeysuckle and apricot, cleansing the palates of the thirsty.

Do not be a stone, sinking into the sand, being dragged down by the gravity of the universe.

Be the bubbles rising joyfully in the glass of vintage prosecco, tickling the tongues of those who dare to take a taste of you.

Seek joy. Allow joy. It’s ok.