This morning, I had one of those rare, beautiful moments. I woke before anyone else and stared up at a star outside the window. That moment before our world stirs; before we reach for our phones; before the first movements in the house break the air.
In such rare moments there is an all-absorbing stillness that you don’t want to end. A moment of deep contemplation in which you allow everything to just wash over you and your troubles and responsibilities remain enough out of reach for you to immerse yourself in a blissful serenity.
I let my eyes close, feeling I could fall gently asleep again, but knowing full well that veil of silliness was a good sixteen hours away at least.
And then, suddenly it’s gone. The world rustles us with its rough, callous hands as we give way to the realities of who we are. But today. Despite all the rushing and pushing and fussing, we know we’ll carry that moment with us like a protective blanket of calm. At least for a while.
We know we should bring ourselves to this moment more often: take time out to meditate more often; be good to ourselves more often. But we know we won’t. Today at least… today we’ll have that soft sacred moment to carry with us. Today will be a good day.