last night i dreamt of serpents and strangers, dusty old houses and tight passageways. i awoke afraid, carrying the reel of my subconscious into the pre-dawn.

i remembered, again, that even in the unanticipated darkness, i do not seek to orchestrate the undercurrent. i know the consequence of control to be too great. i know that my best intention is to stay awake, to notice the fog, and to rise above into the blue.

this morning, these mountains proved again that they can hold the lifetime’s old. on them, i can climb and sweat and burn and ask. i can lay on the ground at the plateaus, exhale, and allow my vision to blur. this is where i understand meditation.

what i bring home are feathers and heat.
forgiveness, a layer of dust, and trust.

and today, all of this happened before i drove the morning carpool.

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should i
not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside,
looking into the shining world?
~Mary Oliver