Cherished

Cherished:

some morning are quieter than others, my mantra seemingly leading me to greater depths of meditation and silence, outside sounds more subtle in their arrival. Yes, these are the mornings that I most love, feeling undisturbed by any passing thought, peaceful, content to simply sit and let words find me for early writing. Yet not every morning is like this, I live with someone who has a love of television through all hours, often waking at a similar time to match my meditation and writing, even though it’s well before the first hint of dawn. As well, my house is not remote, a street directly behind my meditation/writing room, traffic though odd hours, music often playing loud, an occasional siren nearby. Not all the time, but often enough for their to be a comparison of noise to my most cherished quiet mornings.

and all of this is fine.

those quiet mornings now cherished even more in their appreciation, that they are gifted, and not to be taken for granted by their presence. More so, I’ve come to note the degrees of silence offered, how there’s always an underlying quality to the acceptance of sound, grace, never once a rejection of whatever’s played through its ever present hold. That’s the end result of every meditation really, reaching this depth, this all accepting field of silence. I believe that this is really what’s most cherished, and that it’s always…