11:00 a.m. Set the timer on my computer for 15 minutes. Throw a fabric runner with a forgotten history on top of the printer. Light a tea light in the small bowl that Adrain gave me. Strike the meditation bowl. Sit on a wool blanket folded on the threadbare, cat scratched couch. And stop.
Sometimes this practice is a tangle of thoughts and distraction. Other times it’s like watching a rare bird. Careful, quiet and concentrated. Momentary. At the best of times I watch my breath like the sun rising and setting, awed by the natural, uninhibited ease of existing.
And then I go back to work, a little different than before.