Lunchtime meditation

I had a few minutes today by myself while sitting on the back door steps to eat my lunch.

I watched the breeze ruffle the sheets on the washing line, and that often gives me such a quiet sense of contentment. I noticed my own breathing, which felt one with the movement of the wind.



Then I followed the breeze over the neighbours' backyards, along train lines and through little creeks. I tugged on racy knickers and horses' manes and nudged empty trolleys in shopping centre carparks and kicked up some dirt off someone's newly dug grave and then I blew into the city and out to sea.



I thought of ships sailing on far-off seas, flurries of snow whirling over distant glaciers on the other side of the world, and me, held in the breath of the world. Then the kids found me.