Sacred Moments

I was woken this morning, not by birdsong, but by a light that suffused the entire bedroom in a surreal glow. Piercing through the curtain at the window, this glow had danced in to settle on my closed lids, urging me to open my eyes. At first, I thought I had overslept but a quick check told me it was just 3 a.m. I walked to the window, lifted the curtain, to stand in fascinated awe drinking in the beauty of a landscape that only the first snowfall can bring. The first pure joy of the season where the spirit meets the mind to acknowledge this is happiness.

Later, instead of focusing on a brisk walk, I meandered over to the park, my faithful companion during the winter months.

The morning walk turned into more meditation, than a walk, as my gaze swept across the familiar fields, playground, and benches, stopping only at the edge of the woods bordering the park. I recognize the role of this, and the other places I walk, in my creative make-up; I respect them. Every so often I will pause, listen to the silence of a hush-filled dawn as this one, feel its breath upon my face. This is the earth, who, even in the throes of winter, is alive and in her aliveness is what we call life.

I remember well those days taking public transport to work, the air of camaraderie among fellow travellers. Even loaded down under the weight of winter outerwear, it did not take away from the mutual delight of witnessing the first snowfall of the season.

Take a pause, wherever you are look around you. Make each minute count. They are tiny but packed with immense possibilities.
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Stay safe and well, my friends.
Purabi Sinha Das