Today I’m flying low and I’m
not saying a word.
I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.
The predawn sky is clear heralding a sunny day ahead. My healthy and hard-working husband—who just delivered a big mug of soy milky frothy coffee to my bedside—is getting ready to head out to men’s meeting, returning home briefly afterward to get his hiking gear, and then heading out for an all-day hike.
The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.
I’m spending the entire day home alone—a treat I haven’t enjoyed for far too long. Not even this nasty head cold is going to spoil this simple happy day.
But I’m taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I’m traveling
a terrific distance.
I’ve a couple of things to tend to; or I might just do nothing at all. That’s unlikely, but I could, if I choose, spend the day doing a whole lot of not very much—knowing that is enough. On the other hand, I’m not operating on all cylinders thanks to this cold so perhaps some down time is called for. We’ll see.
Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.