This morning I brought my tea and toast back to bed on a tray.
Listening to Baroque by the Bay, with my cat curled up next to me, and the rainy morning quietly moving on without me attending to time, I have been reading blogs by wonderful educators.
Why I love the Baroque. There’s a pattern, a sense of order, but it is continually moving. Moving with grace and natural insistence, the way the morning, my thoughts and life goes on. However, the delight of the turns and phrases invites me to savor the shape of each moment. A viola, a recorder, some lute-like strings calling and answering, in a leaning, wondering kind of way. Then breaking into joyous romping.
This being propped up in bed on pillows, an empty tea mug, the crumbs of cinnamon toast on the saucer, Mickey washing a spot on his elegant black and white fur, all this peace and quiet, like the concerto, answers back and forth: Listening to listening. Noticing to noticing.
Heart to mind and mind to heart. There is such beauty.
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