One of These Mornings
It’s early in the morning, I wake up scared from a bad dream I had, I’ve been crying. Was it in my sleep or was it before that? I can’t remember… Oh it’s the medication I’m taking. I think it’s playing with my head.
I don’t really care. I need to be up and go about my day. Under the shower, listening to one of my favorite counter tenors playing with my curls, washing my sweaty body from a long night. As I’m tidying up my arms, I slowly feel these warm sun rays softly drying the remaining water drops on my back. I turn back, and there, at the horizon, a person walking in the freshly cut grass fields. I’m losing my grip, the towel falls down, but I don’t care, I keep staring.
There they are, walking towards that tree with falling leafs. It’s autumn. My focus shifts to that tree. I’ve always admired it, always standing there, throughout the seasons & always beautiful, when it’s green, yellow, with no leaves or when it’s white when snow falls. But it’s there, surviving… Or is it?
I guess it’s actually going through life course, it’s not surviving. Or is it?
It’s maybe living, it’s maybe contemplating and enjoying every moment it goes through. Is it really?
If it isn’t, then why is it always a beautiful tree standing at the center of the green fields? Shouldn’t it be reflecting its own being?
I pick up my fallen towel to finish up. I swiftly look at that scar. It’s there & hasn’t healed yet, a few more weeks before all those stitches are removed. I should be careful dressing up… enjoying the warmth of the sun coming through & the flawless voice of Philippe Jaroussky…
Another morning, another lesson!
