This is a morning of fresh starts.
The weather broke and I am able to come outside again. Woody got me up early, bless him, and brought me outside where he snuggled in to the wicker sofa on the front porch (his most favorite place) and I covered him with soft throw and he fell back into a deep sleep. It's raining, gently, and cool enough that he needs the cover, cool enough for me to wear a robe over my t-shirt and yoga pants.
I made my coffee and brought it to the table with my laptop and began working on the writing project that's been calling to me, the nonfiction thing that's been nagging at my consciousness. The writing this morning is coming easily, the words flowing on the screen like water.
I'm telling the story I need to tell.
So, Jamie's question, as always, has great resonance for me, Where do you wish to make a fresh start?
On this morning of fresh starts, the fresh start so immediately available and tactile, I turn my attention (again) to my physical well-being and what it means for me to listen to my body. My daily walks were ended by insufferable heat and humidity this summer and not replaced. The yoga mat languishes next to my meditation altar.
I wish to make a fresh start here: in the muscle and bone. Let me begin to move again and move in new ways, stretching open, gathering strength. The walks, the poses, the way my body speaks as it moves through space. I wish to care for my physical self in a new and expansive way so that all aspects of this life flow the way the words are flowing this morning.