Thursday, July 19, 2012
I woke too early again this morning. Managed to stay in bed 'til 5:15, but uh-unh,sleep wasn't coming back. Slipped on a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, barefoot down the stairs, let the cat in and scooped some food into her dish. Emptied the kettle and refreshed it with cold water. Switched it on, admiring its little-bit-kitschy, little-bit-sci-fi, blue-lit viewing panel. Emptied tea leaves from the pot into the compost bucket on the counter and scalded the teapot with water from the rapidly heating kettle. Splashed that scalding water into the sink, then added fresh loose tea, a smoky blend of Russian Caravan and Lapsang Souchong. Switched my computer on, ear alert to the familiar changes of water approaching boiling point. Grabbed the kettle handle at the precise point of pitch and rolling rhythm that I've grabbed one how many times in this lifetime? In the presence of how many voices?
This morning, it's just me. Paul sleeps still, while I fill my mug, splash some milk in, and head into my office to check all the incoming data while sipping my way into morning.
But we face due East here. What does that mean? Primarily, that mornings can be very insistent, beyond inviting, if there's any sun at all. Impossible to concentrate on a monitor, no matter what news it holds. On one of my distracted glances out the window to my left, I see an otter's head moving purposefully, yet so tranquilly, in our little bay. And I remember that these summer mornings are limited, while the computer and its news can wait.
So I grab my mug, scoop up a book, and head to the beach. Where I find the tides have created a teeter-totter for my amusement. . . . Commentary about balance, perhaps?
p.s. yes, I know, I've been here before, these early mornings, rejecting computer for sitting and watching outdoors. But a colleague brought this quotation of Gertrude Stein's to my attention recently: There is no such thing as repetition, only insistence. . . .