The Experience of Awareness I Had Today (11-1-09)

I am the scribe, the reporter, of my time—my mind, my movements, my thoughts.
I lie in bed on this lazy Sunday hearing restful wordless music.
I notice myself drifting to the calls I should return, to the sun calling me to Nature.
To the next meal, the friend to hang out with.

I just finished Lessons From the Dying
And am musing on time and surrender, on impermanence and right here, right now.
As the dying do, I want to be present to what is, and not live with past regrets or future longings.

I notice almost a palpable pull to start my tasks, yet I still am settled into the fireplace feel of this music,
The sun, the leaves on the tree barely moving, the warmth of this comforter,
The awareness of the peace and ease and freedom I feel as I consciously choose to let the CD serenade complete.

This now moment takes in my Mt. Shuksan wall mural,
The empty wine bottle from a fall trip with a lover to Vermont
The aqua vase with a dried branch arrangement,
The three plants on the windowsill, the vase, the lilac teddy bear
The blue stuffed Eeyore perched above a pile of unread books,
The clothes not yet put away, the cloth monkey I sleep with.

I know how easily I fall into one project, then to another,
Without witnessing, observing, my inner terrain.
How I want the clear awareness I’ve honored myself with today
EVERY day, each hour, in any activity or lack of activity.
If it takes setting an alarm several times a day until it becomes a habit to stop and check in,
I can do that. For now, I will read this every day and relive this experience of awareness.