I have come now to more deeply appreciate old treasures.
The cool breeze that flows in through my windows. Fresh clean, warm sheets. The notes of a piano. An empty sink. The smell of roasted vegetables.
A rush of cold water after a long hot shower. Practicing every morning on my mat. The rise of the sun, waking me. Deep rest.
And then there are the sounds.
Birds' voices filling the air. The infrequent car that drives past my home. A distant song that bellows out from somewhere close, and yet far.
The faces of my parents. I cannot seem to see enough of them. Two, three, four times a day.
The words. All the words.
And the waves of emotion that come.
There are moments of joy. Solo dances. Clarity of purpose. Delight in seeing the faces of my friend’s children. The laughter of my dearest ones.
And even with that, there is also the fear and panic over what’s to come.
Grief. She visits too. Sometimes too often.
I sit with all of it.
Noticing every piece of it. It has become my greatest teacher.
Because even in the simplicity of our days. New experiences arrive. New feelings say hello.
It all seems to belong.
It all seems to belong.
It all seems to belong.
And so, I say on this day, thank you. Thank you for teaching me to notice.
I hope you are too.
