Touching and quieting today. I feel restless at first and then sit with that; noticing the tightness of breathing and letting it be. Then tired, letting that be as well, the fog can be watched too, then dreams or partial dreams wake me back to one place upon the stone, staying gently with that.
Leaves fall outside in the wind. Each and every one is brand new, falls perfectly without any need for planning, cuts a space around the tree with the prow of its stem like a little boat. The leaves are in perfect time as well; no one has planned them. The stone sits in its time with me. It is just right, I am just right in being with it, being with my love, being with the round of sleep and waking that gently seeks interruption, a waking that wants to shed its inhibitions, brightly colored as they all fall down.
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