Honor

One of my favorite weekly rituals is my Sunday morning flea-market shopping with a very dear friend.  We've been doing it since we met in 1993.  The things I have collected have been impressive.  Today, there was yet another teacup, a vintage handbag that will find its way to a friend's collection, and a gingerbread loaf by the hands of a kind, gentle lady.  All I need is just one thin slice and the rest will be handed over to a friend who really enjoys a homemade cake in his fridge.  Those were today's finds.  Imagine what has found its way here in all the years I have been gathering.  The interesting thing about it is it's all neatly and carefully tucked away.  All the teacups have a home and there is a gift room with everything neatly packed away on shelves awaiting their departure to the hands of another.  Everything here is honored.  For so long, I focused on the stuff I surrounded myself with.  Now, the focus goes inward.  The same honor finds its way to me.  I now consider the things I choose to put in my body.  How do I want to nourish my body, is one of the questions I now ask.  What is the television programming I want to spend my time watching, is another consideration. Who are the people around me?  Do I want to engage in arguments with anyone, or would I rather spend my time in meaningful conversations with people?  Just as I am the one who carefully decides everything that comes in over the door, I am also the one who decided what comes into my life.  I had overlooked that for so long.  Even when I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in 2003, it didn't wake me up to the trauma I was subjecting my body to.  Thankfully, I get that lesson now.  I think I will now treat myself to a wonderful cup of tea to go with that slice of gingerbread.  I've got plenty of cups to choose from to make it a wonderful mid-afternoon snack.  My body now gives thanks for all that I'm doing for it.