Sitting in the quiet of the morning, I know that at any time the wave of humanity will come crashing in and invade my serenity for the day. And off we will go, careening through the day, to arrive breathlessly at the other end. To what avail? To pass the bar, of course.
I found myself putting foot in front of foot this morning, mindlessly, tired and slightly bent in my mind. "Self!" I said to myself. "Squander not this gift."
This interlude from now to August is singular, and while it comes freighted with anxiety and heavy expectations, it is nonetheless a sweet and quiet pocket outside the maelstrom of life.
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