Our Folded Hands

Women helping Women. Reaching out to the Sister who still suffers. Helping each other through the Good times and the Difficult times. To get to the SOBER way of life, One Day at a Time.

Promise of a new Day

The sun, the hero of every day, the impersonal old man that beams as brightly on death as on birth, came up every morning…
—Zora Neale Hurston—

Details bog us down. when we count the trees, we never breathe in the forest. Keeping our focus close means escaping the wider ranges of our perception and

robbing ourselves of the chance to see more than one little slice of life.
When we’re children, everything is near and far at the same time. So many things are new that we need to anchor our perceptions with small bits of the familiar: security blankets, familiar toys, a well-loved thumb.
Grown-ups presumably learn to do without these ” transitional objects.” Yet we need some certainties in a life of shifting priorities and relative values. We’re lucky if we can find our anchor within ourselves. We are the real heroes of every day; we come up every morning out of the individual details of our sleeping minds, and it’s given to us to shine brightly on the events that touch us, whatever they may be.
Today may I find both the zest in living and the detachment from the petty details of life