multicolor

Between the internal self-pitying-self-criticizing monologue of discontent and the simple wonder of the morning sun moving through the cottonwood next door, there is the fact of the striped rug on the earthen floor, here in the room that is the sanctuary within my sanctuary. A cup of tea, a quiet breath. And the tender presence of all the breathing green things just beyond the window, who would be happy to welcome this body, a friend among friends, if I decided to allow it.