this morning
i am a guest. in slicing the orange melon with green skin, in the light from the window, in the gray morning light on the dirty sink water--i am a guest. i am aware. i am here, noticing all that my hands do, that my body feels, that my emotions experience. i am here in the quiet out of which birds chirp, or a steady rain gently rises louder. i am always a guest. in the midst of a room, in the sound of the refrigerator hum suddenly dying, in the quiet, in the now.
why is this peace? it seems that the world is always changing. but, inside my body, behind my thoughts, i stay the same. only if my thoughts or feelings grow loud enough to fill that space do i disappear completely. who am i?
awareness.
listen.
in the space between sounds,
between two trees,
between two thoughts--
the peace of God.
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