To kneel and kiss the ground

Dear Reader -  One of my favorite authors is the late John O'Donohue. After setting up my previously-scorned cash register this evening (that's a story for a later time), I toodled on up to bed, expecting to settle in with a few passages from his To Bless the Space Between Us. But when I couldn't put my hands on it, I grabbed my well-worn copy of Beauty instead.

A page and a half into the introduction, this quote from Rumi caught me in a way it never had before:

    Let the beauty we love be what we do.

  There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

I wept, dear Reader, for today I kissed the ground.

And I realized that I needed to tell you about it before I slipped off to sleep, where the dances of my dreams might overtake the magic of this moment - of this day.

First, you need to know: Tamiflu is a miracle in a little capsule. I started on it right away after my trip to the doctor, and by the next day my fever was gone, never to return. And since I was fever-free for 24 hours and therefore no longer posed a health risk to anyone, I opened up the shop just after Noon on Saturday after taking Miss C up to meet her dad.

As soon as I had everything settled, my first guests found their way inside, and the steady stream of visitors never ended 'till the Second Street shops began closing down around 5:00 or so.

Dear Reader, the wonder of it all is that it was everything I'd hoped it could be and more. People found their way in. Friends and lovers pulled out books and cards, giggling about them or striking up a conversation about history or philosophy or art. Children had a blast pulling out Miss C's children's books, finding affordable volumes to take home for their very own. People found Miss C's favorite little couch or the chairs around the shop, sitting down to thumb through volumes. Many found just the perfect gift or card. And total strangers connected over books and ideas. I met poets and artists and more kind people than I can count.

It was absolute bliss.

If tonight were my last, I'd end my days as a utterly fulfilled book-seller.

But as I anticipate the sun, I look forward to what tomorrow brings.  - Jenny

P.S. Folks were digging Rosa Passos today. Thought you might, too. Blessings on your night and on your tomorrow.