Both Hands

The month of September continues to improve as my approaching trip to Paris draws more near. Door County, dancing in the isle at the U2 concert, dinner parties, Citizen Cope, walks through the neighborhood, champagne and dancing, new restaurants and new connections vibing with old, shopping and art festivals. And I can't help but just feel completely overwhelmed and blessed to have the community of friends and family that I do.
Yesterday I visited Obadyah on death row, and at the table behind us sat a man scheduled to be executed next week. He has waived his appeals and is now tying up his loose ends, making final connections with his family and friends...and I can't comprehend the gravity of knowing you're going to be killed in less than a week. He had a steady stream of visitors during the five hours that I was there, but there were no tears. I didn't know that man, but just sitting in the same room with him evoked a whole range of emotions, from rage and sadness to confusion and even pity. He gave Obadyah and I each a can of coke, and after I left, I realized that I never thanked him again. I also realized that I never said "I love you" to Obadyah, and even though I'm not saying "good-bye" in the way that the man behind me was, I felt disappointed in my failure to express my genuine love for him.
As I pack my days and nights with plans to see everybody important to me, I feel like the creator has offered the world to me with both hands. And I am more than happy to take this world into my hands, whether I'm dancing or running or sitting cross-legged on the floor.