morning meditation (or why I will not get out of bed just yet).

I want to stay here, immobile, or almost immobile and take a trip inside myself.

I want to take the time and the care necessary to feel the air caressing the skin on my cheeks.  I want to try to feel its temperature.

I want to feel how my muscles are hugging my bones, see what rises first and more, my lungs or my belly, when I breathe in.

I want to pay close attention, again, to the air, this time to detect its passage in and through my nostrils.  I want to feel its freshness as I breathe in and its warmth, induced by its brief stay inside my body, as I breathe out.

I want to say hello to my scalp, my hair, my forehead, my eyebrows, my eyes.  Observe my own pupils with eyes closed.

And then I want to smile.

And feel my limbs as they relax.

I’m not in a hurry.   I’m in my nest, where I indulge in my own beauty, and where I rest.