Morning wakeup, 7:30 despite no alarm. I should be tired from Fridays late night TV binge but oddly no. Instead I rise with a little less creaking to my bones and not so much resistance from my brain.
Bathroom first, piles of laundry stare at me but for once I don't mind. Pull a few from the dryer, put more in, sort more still. Down the hall to the kitchen to wash up the coffee pot and favorite cups. I collect the wayward dishes, socks and assorted paraphernalia of Friday night late bedtimes.
Measure out water, an extra few cups for Saturday, more coffee too. Bacon onto parchment paper, into the oven where I need not babysit it.
The heat whirrs to life above me, pops and clicks from shifting drywall, slight sucking of air through the hallway filtered vent. The tapping toss of clothes from the dryer. Buttons dancing round the heated metal bin. The swishing motorized sound of the washer washing away the dirt of last week.
I pour a cup of coffee with a little too much creamer for the likes of most. Dry, rasping, ripping of many, mini, paper packets puff the air around my cup. I pause and wonder briefly at the safety of chemical sweetness and the effects of coffee on enamel, then stir full speed ahead, happy with the tinkling of spoon on glass.
On to the couch to tap out my own electronic music. The sound of bird call comes muffled by the front door mixing with the occasional spray of the rinse cycle and the smell of bacon rising in the background.
These are the sounds of my silence, my peaceful happy morning, my release on the hold of the outside world. My meditation needs no "om".
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