I spy joy in time alone

Enlightened Graffiti - OM, 2003 Michele M. Larsen

Sweet.

I have the house to myself for 3 hours.  That’s 180 precious minutes.  Or, if we’re living in the moment, 10,800 miraculous seconds.    It’s like nirvana.

It’s just me and my two let’s-sleep-for-19-hours-a-day dogs.  All I can hear is the whirl of the air conditioner, the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard, and the occasional deep sigh.  Aahhhh…

There’s an amazing peace I feel when I’m alone in my house. It’s such a rare and decadent delight that it begs for celebration.

So here I sit with olives, wine and cheese.  And quiet.

Having pleased my ears and my tongue, I am unwound.  Thoroughly relaxed into one of ten thousand moments, I am quiet.  The house is quiet.  And joy bubbles up in the slow, sweet silence.

It is only when we silent the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts.  -K.T. Jong