Another new day – I’m grateful. For the moment I am existing in the space between acknowledging the pain I’m in, and moving on from that awareness to living the day. This, too, is a practice.
The sun was rising as I reached the trailhead. I’ve been walking in the promising glow of early morning, a clear blue sky overhead, and a strip of orange on the eastern horizon. Lovely. It’s chilly but not really cold, about 5.5C (40F).
Spring is coming. I see it in small growth buds on branches that will soon become leaves. Green stems of flowering plants and grasses are pushing through the matted decaying leaves. In the distant hills, I see snow in pockets of shady high places. In the lowlands I see mist and fog. Nice morning for walking.
A nice morning, generally.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate here among the trees, near the creek bank. It’s lovely. When my mind wanders, I pull it back to this moment, here, now. There is time to begin again, a little later. This moment is worth enjoying.
… Isn’t that the way of most moments? They’re worth enjoying or worth changing, and regardless of their worth they are fleeting. Quite temporary. I sigh to myself, grateful for pleasant moments in all their variety. Appreciative to have so few truly unpleasant ones (most of the time). Grateful to have choices when change is the wiser path.
Milky white clouds, formless and diffuse, high above, begin to move in, covering the beautiful blue of the sky. There’s a dense bank of storm clouds to the south, too. My arthritis agrees that more rain is coming. I sigh, reminded of the pain I’m in. Peculiarly, for the time of year, I hear thunder in the distance. How strange. I decide against lingering any longer. I get to my feet to finish my walk.
Time to begin again.
Evening Light 