I love the quiet mornings. The last couple of mornings have been that way. This morning in the stillness is the calm. I'm embracing it.
There's a last swallow of coffee in my cup on the arm of my loveseat. It will be refilled. "The Boys" are taking their after-breakfast nap on a chair and on a rug in the floor behind me, letting the morning's soft seeping light fill them through the front storm door.
My body is still working with the medication to heal and make my sinus trouble into a memory. I hope that in the next few days I will have forgotten it.
Even with this morning's meditation, I need to make this day a day of movement. A day of labor. A day of doing and accomplishing. Not just for the healthful activity of being doing, but for the pure doing of it. If that makes sense. Probably not. But it's hard to pull myself away from the deep moment that is flowing over and through me. I want a day of it. But the cup is empty and it needs to be filled. Then I will...
involuntarily end this time with myself. The neighbor dog has started barking for the day. It's funny how quickly your serenity can be destroyed from the outside of you.
I must stay within.
More later. There's always more later.