Spotlight

Hurricane Irma

I get up early to meditate. I don’t sit on the floor in lotus position. My knees don’t like that anymore. I have meditated in many places and ways. These days I sit in a chair.

At the moment live in a crappy apartment in Brighton. This is the view from the chair I sit in to sit.

I have seven things on my to-do list that would seem more important than writing a post about a view of telephone wires and a building under construction.

I felt it important to tell you, though, that I barely see the telephone pole for the mist. Because the mist is the same mist that hid the grey waves in the days when I lived at the beach, when the soft edge of the Atlantic was outside my door, purring in that same way a cat will purr softly in your lap, then wake in a flutter of hissing and claws, drawing blood and tearing the silence off an ordinary dawn.

Yes, feeling safe and alive pushed itself to number one on my to-do list again today, over emails for business and bookkeeping tasks.

 

 

 

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