Woke smiling, this rainy morning. Woke quiet. Woke in love. Woke in the collected, concentrated inner stillness that comes of knowing that you and the beloved thing breathe a common air; that the loved one, even at a distance, is always close by. The writing. The thing I am.

The outside world, farther away today. Its realities, its disappointments, its challenges, they don’t press so closely. The writer floats within herself, hearing the inner voice that says “it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay, whatever it will be.” It’s the flame, the smoke, the mist, the water, the moment before the rising sun makes itself known.

If I had had the freedom, I would have stayed home today; would have written into the silence. I don’t. So I will smile as long as I can and try to remember how I feel in this moment to recall in the moments when I feel nothing at all.

I don’t know where it comes from, this feeling. I don’t know how long it will last or how to hang onto it or how to make it come back when it goes. The energy of a small hope, translated overnight into something bigger.

Today, I know who I am. Today, I know what I do.

Lynn breathless, smiling in the rain.

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