bless your socks
My socks are in the dryer. I washed the load of laundry piled up in my closet early this morning because the socks I need for today were in that pile. There are ankle socks bundled up fresh and clean in the top drawer of my dresser. But today’s activities call for boots, and boots want socks that reach up beyond ankles and hug at the calf.
Every source of wisdom that I admire, at some point and in some way, invites practitioners to discover how to engage the task of living well in momentary and intentional increments.
What if everyday when I put on my socks I utter a blessing to remind myself that my feet press the earth, that the earth presses back, and that the relationship between my daily stride and the earth’s regular rhythms matters?
Bless you this morning. And bless your socks.