Two parts to the word, in historic darkness coined.
Two weeks ago I was supposed to be on holiday for a week; instead I had this weekend. Measure time off by the relative sparseness of emails sent, by the relative lag between receipt and reply; by the ability to turn all notifications off*; by bosses beaten (and bosses unbeaten) in a game designed for masochists.
Gratitude for the small moments in quiet places; a way to recharge to have the energy to make the spaces we inhabit better.
*“to switch to a slightly different focus mode with fewer exceptions” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it
We give because someone gave to us.
We give because nobody gave to us.
We give because giving has changed us.
We give because giving could have changed us.
We have been better for it,
We have been wounded by it—
Giving has many faces: It is loud and quiet,
Big, though small, diamond in wood-nails.
Its story is old, the plot worn and the pages too,
But we read this book, anyway, over and again:
Giving is, first and every time, hand to hand,
Mine to yours, yours to mine.
— from When Giving Is All We Have by Alberto Ríos