Sitting

Sitting: 

I'm really only interested in writing for its own sake, a creative expression in just a few words and any theme or great meaning is a bonus of sorts. What I enjoy is calmly letting the words come to me, no real sense of chasing inspiration - I write, or I simply sit, patient, not ever a concern for words, content with the soft, subtle hush of morning sounds and the warmth of my first sips of coffee. There's no need for anything but this, and any few words that do arrive add to the joy of my sitting. 

it seems there's poetry in everything we do, even sitting provides infinite means of inspiration, a story of sounds heard both near and distant, the wait for first light to reach my window, how everything feels just right and perfect for the beginning of another day. Sitting itself tells the story of patience, of a certain faith in the gift of words and inspiration, how joy is found in the easiest of pleasures. Yes, there are infinite things to write of and all can be taken to a great depth of exploration, that from where I am right now, a hardback chair in a small office at my home, sitting before keyboards and computer screen, a window to me near right, and a universe as my surroundings. There are particles constructing the atoms that further create our world, everything that's felt and seem is coming to form in this very instant, molecules forming cells and then organs and all for the sake of my appearance. 

infinite things, right now...

and it's all happening here, now, exactly where I'm sitting. 

there's no small amount of pleasure taken with this knowing, it's an immense joy, an entire universe in creation and channeled to this morning, and that it's just so perfect to be sitting here, writing these few words, sipping coffee, listening as the world begins to stir with its own early inspiration. I'm in no hurry for anything to happen, not for words, no further writing...

just sitting, 

immersed in the joy of infinite things. 

~

Peace, Eric