There is a reason we cultivate a practice.
However or whatever that looks like
is different for many of us.
The common thread of why we choose a practice
is for it to be a place to come back to.
There are periods of time when coming back to this place can be difficult, as our minds naturally want to wander and even become agitated and begin looking elsewhere for fleeting satisfaction. We may spend an entire hour or two looping within this agitation and may not experience any sense of tranquility or ease. These times are essential and offer many lessons time after time.
However that which can coincide within the space of our practice are moments where every single aspect within us and all around us feel like it is exactly where it is meant to be.
When the whirling of life in all its forms stands still. Cherish these pockets within time and space.
Those occasions when we set ourselves the discipline of waking before dawn to sit.
Our teaware is prepared the night before and charcoal is laid in our brazier.
We wake, flickers of flame then illuminate our table in the darkness of early morning.
Night insects and animals are humming for their last hour of service.
As they taper off slowly, a deafening quietude engulfs the land and sky as a moment of equilibrium can be felt amongst nature.
Night is echoing in the past, morning has not yet rung its timeless bells to announce a new dawn.
In this silence of in between, a retention of breath, our kettle goes from emptiness to sounds of rumbling deep drones.
Preparing our tea from the boil.
All that exists is this.
Water, flame, kettle.
As we pull the kettle off the brazier to steep our first bowl of tea, birds begin singing amongst
the first ray of light, an arrival.
As the world mysteriously fell away in one single breath.
For a moment in between, which,
slipped through the hands of time once more.