Learning to meditate, trying to ease into a new way of being still and quiet and calm, starting with a DVD to hold my hand while I take the first faltering steps and breathe. Then sitting in the living room, on my own, finding I can do this without a voice whispering in my ear. Feeling cocky, trying and failing on a commuter train. Trying again and doing better. Why do we find it so hard just to breathe?
That phone call earlier floats in, but wafts away and then dissolves on the wind, turning into nothing more than air.
Trying not to feel too pleased about letting it go, because in itself that is a distraction. This is the time for meditation, breathing, quietness. I can deal with the phone call later.
Feel the boundary between my skin and the world fade away and then I become, for one startling instant, part of everything, everyone, every place and time and galaxy wheeling, stardust, golden. You old hippy. The shock sends me back to breathing in and out, regrouping. But for a second I felt it.
The light in me salutes the light in you.