Saturday, October 24, 2015

In the Moment

In the Moment:


10/24
I arose from too little sleep to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.  My day was beginning too early but the coffee beckoned me with a warm and welcoming fragrance that assured me that my world would be brighter with a jolt of caffeine.  Sipping from my mug, I began to take stock of my circumstances, my attitude, my inner and outer environment, and my emotional state.  I waited.  There was nothing noteworthy.  Everything was status quo.  Aside from a dull headache that I attributed to lack of sleep, I felt fine.  Nothing hurt, nothing bothered me. My attitude was neutral.  The room was neither too hot nor too cold.  I was in the moment and there was nothing to report...nothing to note.  I continued to sit, to wait, to explore.  NOPE...Nothing!  It was like I was in meditative block (like writer's block, only more philosophical).  My brain was quiet.  My inner voice was silent.
I was struck by the peacefulness of this state of being.  How restful it was not to be thinking of anything at all.  I enjoyed the quiet as I drank my coffee...my rich, warm coffee.  It was such a pleasure  to sit without being accosted by the blaring television and burdened by negative morning news.  I closed my eyes and floated in this state of blissful being...just sitting and doing nothing, totally detached from everything.  It only lasted a short while but it was luxurious, decadent, self-indulgent and wonderful.  Too soon, footsteps signaled that my mother was awake and needing assistance; my husband was ready to take the dog out; it was time to prepare breakfast.  Too soon the sounds of the morning activity intruded my inner sanctum with the urgency of beeping alarms to announce that the toast was ready, that the microwave had heated something, that an email had arrived on my computer.  Too soon, the room was filled with faces...people that needed, wanted, love, laughed, enjoyed, shared, and emoted.  I changed my focus to them and felt the moment shift to the deep commitment I had made to be part of their lives.  Detachment is only good for a moment. It allows me to revive, renew, and refresh.  But the need to be tethered to a family and to a purpose is very strong in me.  I took a deep energizing breath--a yoga breath, the kind that fills the body from top to bottom, and began my day with a certain resolve that clearly held the traces of gratitude.

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