So I should already be at work this morning.
I should have already been up, showered, and rushing around to get out the door. I should - right now - probably be sitting in traffic, cursing my commute and hoping that it will go more quickly.
I am not, of course.
After helping with Nighean Gheal's band last night and being informed that I had no child drop-off responsibilities this morning, I decided that I was not really in that much of a hurry after all.
So instead I got up at the unheard of hour of 0645 on a work day. I read. I did my calisthenics. I drank coffee and fed the animals. Right now the sun is crossing my fingers as it rises over my typing - something I almost never experience.
I am relaxed - so relaxed I can contemplate the fact that I really should be doing something else yet feeling no particular drive to do it. In fact, my stress level is almost nil for the same amount of sleep which, were it yesterday, made me a stress ball.
Work calls, of course. The e-mails are there. The questions are there. And over the horizon, the larger questions of life are looming.
That is okay. For one morning, I can simply take a little time and be, instead of be doing.
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