Embodied

Standing in the kitchen scrubbing chocolate mousse off day-old dishes, kids laughing, looping Rainbow loom bracelets, eggs scrambling, listening to Tad Hargrave's 8Track mix, taking it all in, loving this moment. This is what it's all about, what I live for. And I realize that Tad is in the room, in the space. That there is something in the background that colours the music, a sense of generosity, an intention. When we give something away, we plant a seed. The gift embodies an energy, from us out into the world.

And every exchange is an opportunity for gifting. Every time we buy something, passing over money carries with it the energy of that moment. When we barter a t-shirt for our favourite dog-eared novel, there is an exchange of stuff, and with that stuff are the stories, memories, moments that spill out over time. So the receiving is a gathering of these moments. And each exchange is an opportunity to receive. Like the slow food movement. Slowing down, noticing the person at the cash register. At the corner store. At the market stall. Making eye contact. Noticing. A fellow human being.

And it can go either way. I remember when we renovated our house, and the plumber came to install our new toilets. It was a Monday morning. And he was grumpy. Dam right pissed of. And everything sucked. The toilet we bought used too much water. The new water softener was out-dated already. Everything was installed in complaint. Infused with bitter citrus. And every time I sit on that toilet, every time I pour salt into that softener, I'm transported back to those moments in time. A little sour oozes out. And so we have a choice in each interaction, to infuse with who we are in that moment. Embodied gifts that keep passing on.

em·bod·y 

1. To give a bodily form to; incarnate.

2. To represent in bodily or material form.

3. To make part of a system or whole; incorporate.

4. To be an example of or express (an idea, principle, etc).