Waking. Making tea. (Honey, cinnamon, lemon, cream.) To take outside with a book and sit under a canopy of birdsong, with a view down the street of Victorian houses, trees, and lit-by-morning, mirror-windowed sky-scrapers.
But where is the book? The one in particular I want is Bradbury's Zen in the Art of Writing, my favorite writing book. It inspires me. Reminds me why I write. And I can't find it on the shelf.
Is it on the messy desk? No. The messy table? No. A quick prayer to St. Anthony, the saint of lost objects. I walk across the kitchen and look back at the shelves from a distance. There it is.
Sometimes we have to step back to see what is right in front of us.
As with life. At times I am able to float above my life and see what I am Looking for with clarity and perspective. Very often I cannot. The ego views life as a problem to be solved. The soul sees life as an adventure to be lived. I wish I could err on the side of the soul more often!
What are your ways of gaining clarity and perspective?