After rushing about this morning—
muffins for breakfast,
water for the Christmas tree,
matcha made—
I sit.
And breathe.
And notice.

A year ago, I could not have imagined
the utter calm now at my core.

After moving back to these islands,
after four years away,
I was in fragments—pieces—
plagued with doubts and fears
not typical of my usual state of being.
I have never developed a mask
that helps me cope with the existential terror
of being alive in a fragile body
in a tenuous world.

So then, as now, I sought what I seek still:
solitude.
A place where I can write down feelings
such as these,
and dreams, when memory
sparks awareness by rising into time.

What has changed in this transitional year—
despite the jangling collective energy
I feel whenever I leave this sanctuary—
is that sometimes I sense a lull in the matrix,
a pause where my spirit aligns.

There is spaciousness
where there was constriction,
focus
where there was chaos.

I can breathe.

And step out into the garden to water,
and breathe in
the wonder of the day.

Kauai ~ bj 2013