if it’s good enough for James Taylor…

8 07 2010

Morning on this small dot of land at the bottom of the world, finds me a little disconcerted. This place on earth is special and I know it. I feel gratitude and a sweet thrill of delight that I have made such choices in my life to have carried me here. Not forgetting, of course, the abundant benevolence of the universe to exist as it does, at this time – for me!

Disconcerted, then,  seems an ‘out of sorts’ kind of experience for such awareness.

From a very young age, I dreamed of adventures and travel. I imagined the sounds and scents and colours and textures and experiences I would  integrate into the person I was creating from the raw materials of my nature and the tender nurturing I received. It was clear to everyone who knew me that I was an adventurer. I was full of a heady lust for knowledge and understanding and my parents, so wisely, encouraged me to follow my bliss.

Twenty odd years later, with many experiences and a good amount of understanding in my pocket, I have found my home.

This morning, I woke to a howling wind, a rainy timpani on the roof and the most beautiful grey/blue feisty sea.

A morning storm!!

And to delight me further, I found a crackling fire warming the room and a delicious hot coffee, both prepared with the most genuine thoughtfulness I have ever known.

I sighed loudly with contentment as I snuggled into the sofa, hands wrapped around my mug, watching the rain paint the window glass and the white sea-foam buck and rear. I felt all those familiar feelings of gratitude and peace.  All of a sudden, I was jolted back into a memory.

One early morning, I awake to a dark room – it’s very warm and I am wearing a sleeveless cotton nightie. I climb out of bed and make my way towards a thin crack of light on the opposite wall.  I open the double windows and reach out to clip back the shutters, revealing a small courtyard, a ginger cat sunning himself on the stone wall and colourful flowers in pots of Provençal blue and terracotta. Muffled voices waft by – busy neighbours greeting one another with a quick word and a wave of a baguette. I hug myself and smile widely into the sun.

I remember it all so clearly – I remember feeling as full as could be with the joy of the moment. I knew for certain that all the experiences in my life had purposefully culminated in the absolute perfection of my morning.

I feel the same way today.

The two morning experiences, juxtaposed, point to such changes in me and my priorities and my intentions – there is no wonder that I feel a little disconcerted.  I look back to the woman at the window as a version of myself – one of whom I am rather fond. She was, I believe,  more idealistic yet less confidant; more adventurous yet less courageous; more outgoing yet less receptive. I know, too, that many more choices and tweaks and integrations will lead to other changes and, no doubt, new mornings of perfection. Where will I go? What new adventures will I find? What forks in my path will challenge me? How will I feel?

For now, though,  I will drink up this morning and try very hard to remember it as vividly and warmly as I can. Then, one unexpected daybreak, I will find it again and marvel at all the changes and new delights in my life that I could never have anticipated.  I will travel through all the mornings of the world… in my mind.




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