119. Stacks, Fog, Breath, New Start
Each morning I “walk” a lap labyrinth, then color a mandala (just a plain circle into which I put whatever I want), then write a page of reflection. Let me describe it for you. At the bottom of the mandala are six stacks of varying colors—black, violet, orange, green, red, light green. They are different heights and they look a little like different height buildings in the bottom half going over from left to right two-thirds of the way. Then there is a brown strip that goes from bottom to top, and to the right of that the bottom two thirds are strips of blue and the top third are strips of yellow. Back on the left two-thirds of the circle above the stacks is just gray, gray fog. Can you see it?
You can see the stacks and the fog—the stacks of stuff (papers, folders), plus the stacks in my head of things to be done, checks to be written and the fog gathers, emails unanswered and accumulating, papers lost, things slipping by me and then suddenly the strengthening rod of breath. I see it all accumulating—this time sooner than last time (that’s encouraging) and I come to a morning halt: the brown strip of breath and I take the time on this morning to breathe.
On the other side of breath are the forward moving stripes of blue (blue for reaching) and stripes of yellow (for light and insight) and they move horizontally in a forward motion. Once again I can start over and interrupt the stacks.
