Saturday Morning

cross-black-and-white-dress-portrait

I come into this small room and take a seat on the floor.
I don’t expect miracles.
But I have given myself a sacred space,
and now I simply offer myself the even greater gift of time to use it.
Someday, perhaps, something will happen here.
For now, I love this room,
this emptiness, the fading light, my own quiet company.
I am learning, by sitting, to become,
in the words of Terry Tempest Williams,
“a caretaker of silence, a connoisseur of stillness, a listener of wind.”

~ Katrina Kenison, Magical Journey: An Apprenticeship in Contentment 


Notes:

Comments

  1. and just comfortable with my own breath.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. love that last line

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A listener of the wind. Friday I took my grandson to “listen to the wind” as it blew through fields of dried corn stalks as it said goodbye to summer. A moment of Zen…for me.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I keep coming round to the idea that if I could just carve out a little zendo in my tiny apartment, I’d meditate more. But I don’t have that space. It’s sitting at the foot of my bed or not at all. And anymore, not at all.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Lyric….why, oh why, is sitting quietly so damned difficult? (For me anyway….)

    Liked by 1 person

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