Sleeping in the Hamock

Really, the sky is a beautiful sight.

Thankful for the view tonight, my heart swells in love for the moments of reprieve.

Real reprieve. A pause.

Anyway, that's what I want and need. I'm working out some stable peace within the thoughts I'm tracking—I get restless—and that is why joy is a channel and a release. It’s been weeks now of heightened, too-much-caffeine energy because I fell in love with a caffeinated drink (sadly, it’s not calorie-free).

Anyway, I want the space of the night sky in me and all around me. And I have that right now.

I want this forever. This wide-open sky in me and all around me to lie calm and still, like the ocean of my heart and the vastness of existence running into one another in the most calm way.

Some things I am doing to create the buffers of echo and wave—to make thought and matter so still—is to get all up into the therapy. Yep, we’ve got three layers covered. That’s a real accomplishment currently, plus all the hard work I put into accessing my thoughts and tracking the behaviors.

What gives me stress? And what gives me peace?

I think about all the beautiful moments that were planted and blossomed, and how little tinges of competition open new doorways, like watching it unfold. Anyway, my drift is off on its way to somewhere completely different—and that’s okay. It’s just good and okay to be off on an adventure away from everything, floating between the heart and the sky and finding no divide.

The heart deserves reprieve from the cold of this horrible winter; the summer feels close even with the chill in the air now.

My future, quiet, shady spots and low-key, with hardly any visitors besides the birds and the breeze. I can’t stop thinking about the bliss of that

one peace.