I usually do my daily post first thing in the morning but today, our son Chris spent the night so he and his dad could head out early for a Labor Day weekend bonding and exploring trip.
The day began with excitement as they prepared, and Steve requiring more time than Chris, allowed Chris and me to toss tantalizing and extravagant new ideas back and forth. Then, printing out maps for their trip threw my computer into a stagnant mode, and that required a fiddling fix.
I usually begin the day slowly, with meditation, and then, the slow, gentle pouring of water heated to 200 degrees through a coffee cone. Today I was tossed in a percolator, and that required time to come to ground.
After savoring the delight of connection through phone, text, and email, I went outside to hang clothes on the deck to dry. The wind blew through.
The word “psithurism” means the sound of wind in the trees and rustling of leaves. I breathed with the words of Thich Nhat Hanh,
“Breathe in and think, I am solid; breathe out and think, I am free”.
Emily Dickinson wrote, “We turn not older with years, but newer every day.“
Breathing solid, new, and free, I’m a bell, a bowl , deeply struck, sweetly rung. I’m seaweed on a rock.