Good morning

Morning. The world is still asleep. Silence. Its almost tangible. It lays over my ears like an amplifier. Every creak, every squirrel chitter, every bird twitter, is audible, even from inside.

It is moist outside. The air caresses my skin, masking my face in cool mist. So refreshing and invigorating. I'm years away from getting wrinkles in a climate like this.

Green. So many shades of green. The guest from England said we have more shades of green here even than in the British Isles. The daffodils and tulips are blooming. The bamboo is dangling diamond droplets from its leaves. The primroses are showing their colours, and my winter daphne is still blooming, sharing its scent with the breeze.

Coffee. Micro-roasted, the 'Fat Albert' blend. The scent is amazing, the taste as amazing as the scent, its flavour moderated with a dollop of heavy cream. Real cream.

Life. "Every day you wake up and then there's a new day," says a very dear friend. Ambivalence. Striving to enjoy the sensual immediacy of the moment--of every moment--even with the concerns of the day pressing, pressing, always pressing.

Deep breath. Scanning my body. Holding tension in my shoulders, my abdomen, my low back. Exhaling. Shoulders drop, hips shift. Better.

Altar. Lighting incense. Sitting zazen. A nod to Buddha, so sanguine and magnanimous. Om. A timeless moment of blankness, of purity. Better. Much better.

Good morning, world.