Sometimes I think life would be easier if it came in bits.
I'm in the process of switching from coffee (which I cut down to one small cup a day) to tea-bag chai. My new morning beverage routine is as follows:
Fill tea pot. Put tea pot on stove. Turn on stove. Retrieve large ceramic mug from cupboard. Retrieve chai tea bag from cupboard. Sit on stool. Stare into open space spinning nonsensical thoughts through murky mind. Hear a hiss. Pour hot water into ceramic mug while holding the tea bag so it doesn't sink. Watch tea bag bob in the waves of the freshly poured water. Bob tea bag when the waves stop. Add large spoonful of local honey to hot tea. Add milk to hot tea.
I enjoy everything about this far more than in my previous life when I enjoyed my hot cups of coffee. A friend once told me my tea tasted like leaves. Well friend, yes, yes it does a bit doesn't it.
I happen to really like leaves.
Which makes spring a little sad. All the leaves are in brown mushy layers on the ground.
Where I lay and stare at the clouds after running barefoot in a field I just discovered on the very top of a gigantic hill in the center of a city. Everything about it is perfect. Individuals, no doubt claiming disability, are picnicing just over the hill; old men and women (truly disabled) sit in their cars memorizing the view.
My insides are calmer than they have been since I feasted on that red dirt. Something is happening inside of me, and it's good. Really good. I think it helps to let go. It sucks, but it helps.