Returning

By paying attention to the little things - the way the sun gilds the branches of the lilac by the door, the way warm water feels on my hands as I wash the dishes, the delicate taste of the honey I stir in my tea, the almost imperceptible sound of snowflakes as they fall - I can often quiet the frenetic pace of my thoughts.

from Becoming Real

Writing Down the Words

Always, the need to come back, to return.

In the link above, Pauline of Writing Down the Words, describes beautifully and clearly the process of learning to live alone - the adjustments, the pains and the quiet, profound pleasures.

And she writes about mindfulness.

I needed to read it. I've been avoiding my frazzled and anxious self lately and substituting escapism. Too much television, junk food, aimless web surfing. A loss of connection.

****

I took the rubbish out before dawn. Most of the leaves have already fallen from the whitebeam and bare branches were silhoutted against the night sky. The air was cold and very still.

Nothing to run from here.