Over the years I have been drawn to spend time in a meditative practice of mindfulness of the breath. Watching it rise and fall. Feeling it in my body. Fascinated by its rhythms, the patterns, the interruptions that shift it, and then how it finds its way back to a regular pattern required by my body.
As I watch the rising and falling of my chest, in meditating I have always been drawn to notice the moment between, neither exhaling, or inhaling. It is ever so brief, and yet it holds all of the possibility of, what is next?; what is needed?; what would be fun?; how will I make my move? how can I participate?
A tiny, regular, moment, expansive, and always full of opportunity, like the pause before I place my brush upon the page, leaving my mark.
Like this moment. Now. Today.