I rise and dress, then, take some steps backward and the world opens up before me. 

Try it.

Try walking slowly backward and see what happens, notice what wakes.

I fill the coffee pot with water, noticing if there is any extra effort.  Where are my shoulders?  Are they moving, resting, assisting? Are they, too, involved in and excited about water in a pot coming to a near boil to pour over beans from somewhere else, not here?

I remember Barbara Kingsolver’s book on spending a year consuming only what was local. Coffee was an exception, as was chocolate. Flour is challenging, though honey can be substituted for sugar.

I walk outside and the half moon is shining with a rainbow halo around her.  Perhaps, she, too, finds new ways to play with matter and light, savoring the geometry and curve of spacetime.

Camellias in my neighborhood
The nearby stream gurgles in flow

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