A beautiful morning.
Outside. Relaxed. Meditations finished and settling in like morning mist.
Here I am with my thoughts.
My thoughts are all I have.
My mind, separate from the physicality of my brain, is the only true possession.
For my body is susceptible to its surroundings. Too much sun? I burn. Cold temperatures? I freeze. Surrounded by virus? My body succumbs. Old age? My body wrinkles and sags.
What is still in my mind is only and totally mine. It may be ravaged too, but the thoughts are still mine. If I can find them...
If my thoughts are the one true possession, like a safe full of gold bars, rubies, and diamonds, what am I doing to protect precious-jewel thoughts? What do I fit into my safe?
After connecting with family via texts, I open Instagram-search and am greeted among the montage of life's chatter, by the mug shot of a young man who perpetuated a heinous crime. I quickly shut the app. I don't need it, don't want it, won't have it. Not today.
I keep the phone in my hand, but switch to the meditation app and step outside where I am surrounded by morning bird song. I listen to two short meditations that connect body and soul.
To my left, is the same hot air balloon that has been rising every morning this week. I think of the industriousness of rising early to launch a balloon. I remember the peace when I rose above the earth in a friend's balloon. The silence above the city. I'm thankful for that experience offered to Tony and me.
The next early morning thought-protection is the word of God through scripture: ...if ye do not remember to be charitable, ye are as dross, which the refiners do cast out, (it being of no worth) and is trodden under foot of men.
I read a Simple Abundance entry designated for this day: Loaves and Fishes Part 1. The author inspires me to make due with what I have. Not only make due, but create miracles. I list five things for which I'm grateful.
A pause for breakfast. A scrambled egg with spinach, a strong cheddar, spilled onto a piece of sourdough. A cut up tangerine, little chunks from a fresh pineapple, a handful of grapes sliced in half. A buzzing yellow jacket disturbs my peace and reminds me of the constant struggle to survive. I'm especially thankful my food is easily pulled from the fridge and that I don't have to hover, buzz, and irritate for my nourishment.
A deep breath. Attention to the birdsong. My thoughts protected so they can expand, create, relax--creating a petri dish to grow the good stuff.
I am grateful.
Comments