Equal parts.

I'm listening to Christmas music. Yes, you sticklers, it's before Thanksgiving but I don't care. I love it so much. I feel so young and excited. All it takes are a few strands of twinkling white lights, some pine. Throw in some sparkles and snowflakes and I'm done for. Totally and utterly flung back into a childlike state.

I helped some friends decorate their house tonight. I mean, it wasn't even my house and I helped hang lights and hook ornaments. What a blessing to be invited into that. We drank decaf coffee, sat on the floor, listening to Christmas music unashamedly, all the while talking about the upcoming Holidays, upcoming decisions, and upcoming changes. There's something so freeing about sharing. About giving a piece of your life and receiving a piece of someone else's. I'm finding I am most refreshed when this happens. When I have a safe place to speak and I can also be a safe space.

A lot of times when one speaks their mind,verbalizing their inner dialogue, we call it "sharing". I use that term all the time, thanks for sharing. Thanks for sharing your heart. But who is the person who's receiving the sharing? The sharee? The receiver? But that's not sharing. Sharing is when both people win. When you split a cookie, when you share a piece of cake, both people win. It's even. Unless of course one person is a pig, but then it's not sharing, at least not really. When truly sharing, both people receive and both people give. And I love that. It makes me glow like a Christmas tree.

I celebrated Thanksgiving with some friends tonight too. It was a great night needless to say. There were a few moments where I looked around, and felt like a proud mother, despite the fact that most of those in attendance where my age or older. It was beautiful. People standing here and there, food all over the counter, glasses in hand, couches filled. People sharing laughter and stories. Sharing the feeling of a stuffed belly. We brought food and ate food. And it went further. So much food was left over. I think it even tasted better because it was shared.

Moral of this story-I love sharing. It's good and beautiful. Sometimes rare, at times hard to find. But o, the treasure when found. Friends, thanks for sharing life with me. For listening and speaking, equal parts. For cooking and eating, equal parts. Giving and taking, equal parts.