Look here, at my new favorite spot. It is the balcony outside my bedroom. There is the chair I hauled up over the railing with a long extension cord because I couldn’t find a rope. That upside down flowerpot is my footrest, and the railing is where I set my cold drink. If I think to bring one up here, that is. I can hear the music playing on my new iPod speakers that are inside on top of my dresser. The wi-fi works here, too, so occasionally, like right now, I bring my computer out to write.
Here I can think. I read, write, meditate and think here. At night I light the little candles that are lined up on the railing. They create a sense of being inside a room, because I can’t see anything outside of their surround. Mostly, though, I sit out here in the dark just before I go to sleep and look at the stars. Straight ahead is the Big Dipper. Orion, when he is available, is just over my left shoulder.
Here I am part of my neighborhood, yet apart from it. I look down on the flowers that have planted themselves alongside my fence. There is a huge oak that provides shade to the back part of the yard, and behind me the canopy of another magnificent tree. I can hear the train go by a few blocks away, the cars that pass my house, the neighbors talking. I’m in it yet I’m apart.
This is my new favorite spot. Here is a good place to remember that I’m doing some things differently now. Because if I don’t plan to remember, I might forget.