That’s been my promise to myself, in a schedule that has me committed to much more mundane assignments. So I make an appointment with the extraordinary. Start my day in the wee hours with early morning writing. Spend some reverent time in nature.
I do this in order to give attention to the things I love the most. It fulfills me. Centers me. Brings inspiration to my days.
But this morning, no rules apply. I’m a rebel indoors. Sorting laundry, changing bed sheets, washing dishes. I return phone calls and reply to emails. Basically, I do my chores.
I gotta say that handling these tasks, the act of getting organized, it settles me. I find calm in gazing at a shelf of freshly folded towels. There is something sacred to be seen in a sink that’s empty, clean.
This morning no soul-shaking poems emerge. No rainbows arc over the ocean in this realm. No dolphin leaps at sea.
But my Inbox is cleared, voice mails deleted. My house is presentable. I’m breathing deeply in the scent of fluffed linens.
Tomorrow, I’ll be back to following the Muse around like a puppy at 4:30am. There’ll be sand between my toes by 8.
But for this morning, I’m at peace. Right here in the commonplace.