Babies? Boring? Hardly!

Some mornings when I wake up,

this thought comes to me:

"Oh gee, another boring day."

Thankfully, I get up at that moment

and a few minutes later,

armed with steaming coffee in my turquoise cup,

I head down the hall to meditate.

Sitting cross-legged in front of a tall window,

I look out onto the meadow.

And there I unravel

the word "boring."


Before I know it, a little animal, a mink,

chocolate brown in color,

scoots across the stone steps, and then,

dashes back into the woods.

Up above, the morning clouds are tinted pale pink

as they drift across the blue sky.

Birds are swooping and dancing on the lawn.

Pine trees tower over the edge of the meadow.


And here, right beside me is the red

vase of flowers my

husband bought me for Valentine's Day.

Miraculously, they are still fresh a week later.

Now I see how silly a word boring is.

How can flowers and trees and birds and clouds and the blue sky

be boring?

That's like saying a baby laughing and gurgling is boring.

Or that breathing is boring.

Sure, we do it over and over and over again, but whenever I think about it,

I'm always exceedingly grateful for the next breath.


By the time I finish meditating, golden strips of sunlight are lying on the brown meadow.

Tall marsh grasses are waving in the distance.

Once again I realize what a miracle it is just to be able to see!

The sky, the grass, everything around me.

That's the way I start my day,

breathing.

Awed and full of appreciation,

love and gratitude.