Home Again

Touchdown on the tarmac. I am home, and glad of it.

The best trip, and this was a good one, does not equal the familiarity of home. The small garden behind the house, beginning to freeze, the bike, unridden for too long again, leaned up against the wall. An empty spot for G to plant more bamboo.

Something has shifted since last spring and I feel ready to fly out and back every week this year. I have a plan.

But between now and mid-January, I look forward to a few long walks and too many pots of tea and breakfast out with people I love.

Someone said to me in class, "It's obvious you do what you love." He had it wrong, really. I love what I do. That's my practice. To love the things that present themselves with a love that depends on nothing outside my own experience. I wish I was better at it.

Come have tea. I am ready to hear the story you've been waiting to tell. I have time. I have lots of time. Only time.

Comments

[susurradeluz]

is the tea invite still open?

[Peter]

Hey, thanks. That distinction is the first conscious wording I've had for a difficult lesson I'm relearning at work: enjoy the job.