Another milestone

Today I found myself walking my mini-labyrinth.  The winding path has been altered by the recent monsoon rains.  In some places, little streams had washed away the dirt, and a layer of small multi-colored stones was exposed.  In others, the rocky path walls acted as a dam, with smooth sand banks piled up on the eastern, downhill side.  Towards the west, clumps of small sunflowers push through the barriers and dirt.  It is all very miniature, though:  the paths themselves are intact and walk-able.

I didn't have much on my mind for this walk:  I just felt like being out in the breeze, watching the clouds piling up in the blue.  It is a cool sunny day, not quite autumnal, but carrying hints of that season. The gusts bring sweet and sage-y scents, instead of the grit and smell of baking dust.  I realize as I walk that summer is over.  Earlier, as I prepared breakfast, I'd left the eastern curtains open:  no need to worry about heat control, and one less thing to debate with E.  And now, I am out at mid-day, comfortable in a long-sleeved linen tunic worn over my long skirt.  I think it's time to move the birdbath out of the shade, back onto the patio, and start up the fountain.

Standing in the labyrinth's center, I start Tai Chi Chih practice.  How long has it been since I did that? How long has it been since I felt so peaceful?  My mind is unfocused as I count the reps, planning out a day of quiet events:  grapes and cheese for lunch, maybe practice the gamba, set up calendars, fill out spreadsheets, read a little, knit a little, think about supper. Shall we go into town and hear C play Spanish music at La Posada?  I'd already taken and edited some early morning cloud pictures, cleaned up the breakfast, done the crossword, tutored a bit.  Nothing of this is earthshaking, but it's all part of a productive life.  I think, without surprise, I feel content.

A year ago, on this date, I met E for the first time. A month later, I was making this labyrinth. I was searching for meaning, searching for choices, searching for myself.  I wanted, oh how I wanted, to make this time a productive one.  And now, here I am, still searching, but no longer grieving, no longer questioning and judging.  At least, not here, not now.  E is 99, and nothing stays the same, but at this still moment, I am centered in more ways than one.

I walk out of the labyrinth, raise my arms to the east, turn and bow to the center.  "Namaste," I think, and I walk back to the house to continue my day.