Hard Work and Stolen Moments
I steal some moments of my own too. When the first sun bursts over the hills across the river, it streams into the cabin waking me softly. I quietly stow the companionway boards and climb into the cool, soft glow of the dawning. The marina is quiet and the river is flat as a mirror. Pilings and docks hover over their reflections. The ducks are sleeping and the geese are quiet. Ashore a pair of deer are munching on grasses in an empty lot. They all seem to appreciate the stillness as much as I. The early clouds reflect so perfectly around the pier it seems that I am walking across the sky.
When I remember to emulate the stillness of the world around me, its as if a membrane is relaxed. The cool morning seeps into me and I begin to bleed into the world blurring the boundary. I can feel enormous and minuscule all at once; a sublime emptiness.
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