Morning Meditation, Glorious Surrender

I sit for most of the hour, the sheep skin under me, a blanket around me and the cat, like a water bottle, on my lap.

It’s cold and wet.

I hear  dew falling on the leaves of the apple tree.  The  hollow plunk  lingers  longer than the sound of a raindrop and is sharper because there is so much space between each one.

I open my eyes and see a pin prick of sun through the trees in the woods where I walk.  I watch it move, saturating  the space around it as is grows. Finding its ways between the gathering of trees, to my eyes.

The sun become molten as it lifts from the tree tops, liquid fire, shifting yellow, red, purple, orange, yellow….and now the halo of  rainbow rays reaching out and touching all over us around it.

I close my eyes and see a turquoise sun outlined in chartreuse floating in a sea or orangy-red, a black wedge breaking the light into the darkness on the other side.

I think it must an hour I’ve been sitting by now.  I think I’d like to take a picture of the cat on my lap before he leaves or the spider webs on the spent beebalm before the light changes.  I think of the disappointment of those things I can’t hold onto.

Instead I just sit,  knowing I will be left with the glorious surrender.