I am resting between the words "now", "presence," and "gratitude".
William Blake wrote that "Gratitude is heaven itself." That certainly slants the choice toward gratitude.
I am reading Acquainted with the Night by Christopher Dewdney. We forget how recent is all this light at night.
How are we changed? He goes through the coming of gas lights, then, electric, and how that changed us, and now, we read by Kindle Light, and yet, firelight still sparks something in us. We resonate to the crack of wood, the smell, and the safety and communion a fire provides. We are back in the cave with our clan, safe from outside eyes, teeth, and beaks.
The fog has wrapped my house tightly today, or at least in this moment, and that makes the redwood and oak seem even closer. It is as though we are wrapped together in a fog embrace. Redwood, oak, and me, one beat, heart, connection, rise and root.
Yes, gratitude is my key for the day, a mantra, opening and closing tides, and now I consider a whole year, and wonder if a new word each day might be the stimulation in which to thrive. Awe would step in to open and oil my meeting with what surrounds, enters, penetrates, stirs. Awe honors absorption and release.