Purples, pink, pale oranges – sunrise paints. My Morning Pages written, perhaps a smidge more somber than other mornings. Still – just waking up is a victory. And I laugh out loud with my reading and coffee, following 22 minutes in the meditation chair. I may be a Buddha (Buddya) but I sit with my feet on the floor.
There’s some blood in the toilet – more morning color – and changes in plans moving forward, including a Zoom with some folks in Oakland, a large crew and mostly African American. I feel at home there. Like my hometown, white and black, even more colors.
I continue to make plans. I’ve paid for four nights at the coast next week, all-alone retreat, and Susan and I scored tickets Saturday for accumulated-miles-paid round trips to San Diego for a week-long August adventure. Making plans is good. Holding, generating hope and new hopes, is good. Aches and pains, unwelcome color where there ought to be none, well, they are what they are. Like the palette of today’s sunrise was what it was.
I’ve woken up and I have paid pretty good attention and I have been a strong participant in life. I also stamped and licked an envelope into which I wrote a letter to my best friend yesterday, and which I plan to walk to a faraway postal box later this afternoon.
See, more plans. Coloring my world.