Contemplative Rain.

Contemplative this morning.

A feeling of neutral newness. Calm.

Thoughts say, “whereabouts?”, whereabouts should they land. A voice that remembers, says that searching for identity, thoughts will always be. Don’t jump in.

It’s a light grey morning after fresh rains and a hearty, restful slumber. Brings out the green greens of the piñon-laden mountainside. How blessed am I to be sitting beside a canyon wall in an arroyo in New Mexico. Last year on what I thought was my death bed from mold toxicity, I had no idea life could feel this good, this fulfilled, this wonderful and beautiful in all its simplicity, that I’d feel happy.

Such goes the tides of life.

And the perfect cup of tea at rain’s edge.