These days we are all seeking comfort. Early this morning as I crept down the hall, I noticed nestled in the crook of the tree just outside the window, a squirrel. His torso hugged low to the tree, his front legs outstretched with his chin resting. Peaceful, that is until moments after I noticed him; he sensed potential danger. From the slumbering perch, he was ready to leap, ears twitching and it appeared he was trembling. I watched him leap to a nearby tree trunk, pause and leap again. The leaves quaked under his weight. I turned and went about my day wondering if he was really ever fully at ease or in a state of comfort.
Soon after the squirrel incident, I made my way through the house and outside to be near the birds and foliage. The sun still in that in-between state of warmth and heat filled the backyard with light. In this place, I find comfort. Closing my eyes I say a prayer, notice my breath and then begin to draw.
Next door, I hear someone yelling commands in Spanish. The John Deer is zipping through the small patch of green. Someone else revs up the grass trimmer, then a leaf blower. The succession of noise assaults the quiet. My comfort is disturbed. Like the squirrel I must be ready for disturbances that may prick my state of calm. Isn’t it all about strategizing a balance of inner peace and inner strength? In this day, both are important.
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