Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).
Well, the moment that comes to mind was rather long, as moments go. Timeless, even. But that was what made it so special.
My family was spending the weekend with friends. I was bedded down on a futon on the floor, in the attic, with one of my two partners. My other partner was sleeping on the living room sofa; our daughter was in a guest room. Our friends were in their own room, of course. Dogs and cats were scattered throughout the house.
I woke at around 4AM, and couldn’t get back to sleep. So, I got up.
A lamp-post was shining its light through the attic window. There was a window seat. I decided that was where I wanted to be.
So, I sat there. Just sat, quietly. Breathing. Resting. Calm.
Eventually, I began to doze there for a bit, I don’t know for how long. I do know that the sky was just beginning to lighten when I decided to go downstairs.
All the other humans in the house were still sleeping soundly. The dogs were sleeping too, I think. The cats were awake, mostly, but quiet, calm. Like me, really. Just like me.
I settled quietly on a couch by the front window of the living room. Just sat. I was holding my journal, but didn’t really feel like writing yet. I had my smart phone with me, but didn’t really feel like Internet-surfing, either.
I sat. I breathed. I watched the cats. They watched me.
I dozed again. I woke. I looked around. All the people were still sleeping.
For the next — how many hours? Four, perhaps? — it was like this.
I wasn’t doing anything. I was just being.
I was awake — for a lot of the time, at least, I was awake — but deeply restful, in a state that felt more restful than sleep.
There was nothing to do but rest. Nothing to do but be.
Oh, peace, peace. I want more of you. Much more.