Moving Meditation

Moving Meditation

I rolled over with a start. The clock read four forty. The light gingerly creeping through the gap in the curtains. Sticky with sleepy sweat, hair falling haphazardly over my face; pushing it away, I lay contemplating whether to get up or fall back asleep.

Waking won. 

I slipped my feet one by one out from under the duvet, pulled my glasses onto my face and tiptoed out of the room, down the hall, down the stairs and to the kitchen. 

Still dark yet light. 

Those moments when you’re the only one awake, they may be some of my favourite. 

Listening as the floor creaks under foot, as everything you take for granted in the light of the day sounds and feels so different in the darkness of the night or faint light of early morning. 

That feeling, those moments, if I could bottle them up - I would. 

For now though, I’ll savour them and the magical way they help shift the everyday from mundane to magnificent.