Good morning, Knuckleheads.
I hope you had a wonderful Fourth of July holiday.
Mine was quiet for the most part. This year, for the first time, I did not have the urge to spend $500 on a backyard firework display or drive somewhere to watch one costing tens of thousands.
My body and my mind are constantly changing as I enter the final chapters of The Game of Life.
I am not always in control.
I don’t like the same foods I used to constantly crave. I can’t touch my toes anymore. Things that once gave me great joy don’t seem as joyous as they once did.
One thing that hasn’t changed is my love of a little solitude in the morning.
Right now I’m sitting on the front porch with my cup of coffee and laptop.
Two of the cutest little brown bunny rabbits just came by on their morning trip down the driveway, headed to God knows where.
The birds serenade my quiet thoughts, creating a symphony of melodies that seem to dance in harmony with my heart. This magical symphony sets the stage for the day
In solitude, our minds are liberated from the constant chatter and distractions that often inundate our day.
It is during these moments that we can cultivate our thoughts and channel our creativity. The absence of external noise allows us to listen to our inner voice, enabling us to reflect, plan, and set intentions for the day ahead.
The joy of solitude in the morning lies in its ability to provide clarity and focus, serving as a sanctuary for our thoughts.
It offers us the space to indulge in activities that please us, whether it be reading a captivating book, practicing mindfulness through meditation, or immersing ourselves in the rhythmic flow of pen to paper. These precious hours, devoid of interruptions, allow us to dive into our passions, unburdened by external obligations.
By savoring solitude, we learn to appreciate the power of stillness in a world that rarely pauses.
Often on mornings like this, when the sun is just beginning to peak out over the ridge and the only sounds are the songs of the birds and chirping of the squirrels, I recall the words of the old 19th-century hymn:
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well, with my soul.