I’m quietly moving through this sweet air of a moment’s rest… It’s a Monday evening and somehow the next few hours of wakefulness are spreading out slowly with me in delicate and delicious possibility. I could paint a little, I could read from one of 10 books that are waiting open, stories I only know part of or studies I haven’t gotten to the findings yet… I could follow with loving, careful and curious attention the small waves of memory and emotion that are passing through my body…the waves move like a finger over the soft slope of a flower petal, a secret algorithm, a velvet softness, a small amount of enticing resistance in the texture, a precipitous drop into the air…

Classical music can, for me, have the precious quality of stirring my mind to interest and focused curiosity while my body is soothed into the peace of a moment. Even with work tomorrow. Even with demanding clients. Even with more to do and the magic it will take to weave it all into something for others. Even with this- I am here expanding into some quiet hours of myself and remembering again- how delicious the sinking into stillness after movement. I had a massage today and my skin feels soft, my body feels lithe and relaxed. Amidst what feels like a lot of pushing and pulling from work and friends I’ve found a few hours of blissful retreat to swim in my own skin and be infatuated with this…this…this sensual pleasure of surrender to the choice my body made for peace tonight. Peace. Peace. Peace. “Be melting snow. Wash yourself of yourself. A white flower grows in the quietness. Let your tongue become that flower.” Jelaluddin Rumi

Oh quiet night, my love, make love to me like the silence of time and the distances of my life.


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