Where'd the monkeys in my hair go?

I wonder about the capillary action of our lives, which actions taken in small micromotions that move a nutrient or two here or there add up to be an entire system of goodness delivery. Noticing the house finch's shadow when it passes, feeling the pellets of cold rain on your face and running anyway, the wink at a bored toddler in her stroller, the moment to squeal about a former coworker's baby instead of saying you have a meeting.

The way the feeling of participation is like the blood flow that travels into our tissues, simply diffusing itself into smaller and smaller pathways. Connecting our tissues to each other. It is in actions. Is it these small ones? 

I judge people on whether they pick up trash as they walk or if they look at it, and choose to leave it. Though perhaps judge isn't the word. I judge outright littering. But picking up the litter of others, I notice. The people who never litter, who pick things up and put them away even when they don't have to, it's not their responsibility to, those are the people that are our capillaries. The people who see a dirty table and just get a rag and wipe it off. The people who notice when a child is sitting alone and find a way to bring that child into the fold. 

Yesterday I helped a family who only spoke Spanish. I explained a number of things about registering for school in Spanish and I was pleasantly surprised at how many things I could coherently explain. The office staff is in a presentation and will be back in a couple of hours, they only do this once a year and otherwise they'd be here to help you register. You son will great here. Which town do you live in, oh me, too. And so on. Nice to meet you. Welcome!

 

It's good to be home, in my community, welcoming people and helping. I missed it here. I missed my mountains, the majestic, gray-peaked ones that dot the scene around the lake, like diamonds on a strand around the neck of a queen. I love this beautiful land. I love seeing all the people I know, the people whose imperfections and whose kindnesses I know. I love feeling the sense of self and belonging of this place. I love the lake and the flowers and the cold summer nights. I wonder if my loving this place so much and for so long has become the capillary action of my own internal spiritual ecosystem. It feels like my fingertips are getting what they need.