Without darkness, nothing comes to birth.
As with light, nothing flowers.
Early morning stillness… the Earth rests. I flutter in and out of a last dream. What time is it? Still dark.
I roll on my side. Push myself up. Feet dangle over the carpet. Gentle movements. Deep breath. My feet touch the floor. Warm socks, cozy wrap.
Time to shuffle downstairs. What shall I drink?
Cool water in the kettle. Tea tins in the cupboard.
Black tea? Yes.
How about a Ceylon? Smooth, elegant. Just right.
The water trembles. Shy light filters through the blinds. A couple of teaspoons of dry leaves slipped into the teapot. The water begins to bubble… Just a little longer.
Ritual gives shape to our days. I await the first sip, and the events of today take root in my mind’s eye. As the day unfolds, they will push through the surface. Now, though, I focus on the breath running through me.