June 30, 2014 - I'm finishing up the month in the evening, with ten breaths for the gently moving treetops silhouetted against the slowly darkening sky. I sat and watched for quite a while more, until the streetlights came on and the fireflies came out.
June 29, 2014 - ten breaths for the soft glow of late evening in the sky and in the tree tops.
June 28, 2014 - ten breaths for two cats perched in the sills of windows open to the morning breeze and light. They are enjoying the sights and sounds from the woods outside and the warmth of the sun, which gleams off their white fur.
June 27, 2014 - ten breaths for patterns of morning sunlight on the wall, changing at a pace that seems right at the edge of my ability to focus and discern.
June 26, 2014 - ten breaths for morning sun shining through water droplets left on fuschia flowers from last night's rain.
June 25, 2014 - ten breaths for fireflies at dusk, rising from the grass to hover a foot or two above the ground and signal with their lights before dropping back to the lawn.
June 24, 2014 - ten breaths for the sky at sunrise - the slowly growing brightness of a new day.
June 23, 2014 - ten breaths for day lilies on the walk to work. They are bright orange in the morning sun, opening their six petals to the world.
June 22, 2014 - ten breaths for bumblebees working on a patch of sunlit yellow flowers. I am fascinated by their maneuverability and the speed at which they assess the condition of a flower before either landing to gather pollen, or quickly moving on to the next one.
June 21, 2014 - ten breaths for the coolness of mist on my skin. Today, the start of summer, was cloudy and cool, a nice break from the recent heat and humidity.
June 20, 2014 - ten breaths for blue midday sky spread overhead, accented by just a few wispy white clouds and one jet contrail.
June 19, 2014 - ten breaths for mockingbirds, morning and evening. This morning, a mockingbird entertained with its repertoire of notes, trills, clicks, and little melodies, each unique and sometimes startlingly different than the one before. Perhaps because I had noticed the mockingbird in the morning, and paid attention to it, I immediately recognized the smaller bird vigorously chasing a crow this evening as another mockingbird. I thought back to the incident a few days ago when it was crows vociferously harassing a fox. Now it was the crow's turn to be the object of harassment.
June 18, 2014 - ten breaths for the settled energy of the long evening of a hot day, nearing the solstice. The air is dense, thick with yellow light from the sun nearing the horizon behind the trees, deepening the greens of the trees and yards. White blossoms hang high in the magnolias.
June 17, 2014 - ten breaths for 6 am birdsong, and for the cool breeze blowing across the train platform at the front of a very hot and humid day. The icing on the cake was watching a sparrow fly up from the other side of a fence beyond the train tracks. Just as it neared the top of the fence, it pumped and set its wings briefly, and appeared to hop over the top of the fence before gliding down toward me. It was fun to imagine being that facile.
June 16, 2014 - ten breaths for sunlight and shadow on the wall, slowly but constantly changing shape and contrast.
June 15, 2014 - ten breaths for the surprise of the morning. I went to the front window to look out at the morning. Sunlight was beginning to shine bright on the waxy shrub leaves beneath the window. Cawing. A crow flew into view and lit on the power wire above the street. Then another flew by. Suddenly a fox trotted into view from the side of the house, glancing fearfully up as the raucous crows yelled, ran across the street, sat in the neighbor's yard and scratched, then disappeared into the bushes beyond. The crows followed, noisily.
June 14, 2014 - ten breaths for young buck I saw, quite unexpectedly, when I followed the evening sunlight to the top of the hill. Suddenly, my brain registered the shape and he emerged into my consciousness, still as a statue. For a few moments I thought he might be an ornament in the garden. Then I realized he was watching me as intently as I was watching him. His concern with me softened enough that he browsed a bit more on a shrub he had been enjoying while still keeping an eye on me.
June 13, 2014 - ten breaths for the painterly sky emerging behind an intense afternoon thunderstorm. Layered gray and white clouds with blue sky above. Watching the clouds, I could see motion, but could not identify a change from the movement. Quite interesting.
June 12, 2014 - ten breaths on first waking to the stillness of the morning. In contrast to the rain storm of the night before, the stillness reminded me of the quiet mind after chanting, or counting down, settling into meditation. With my ten breaths, I imagined the world was in quiet meditation.
June 11, 2014 - ten breaths for strong, cooling wind blowing through about 6 pm as the day settled, and another ten for the roar of the torrential downpour that came a few hours later.
June 10, 2014 - ten breaths for breathing itself. I woke up this morning feeling aware and connected with breath - aware that the air I breathe connects me to the larger respiratory processes of life on Earth that recycle carbon dioxide and produce oxygen.
June 9, 2014 - ten breaths in the morning for bright yellow daisies, and ten more in the evening for the sunset sky. Special attention today for the birth of granddaughter Laureva Mireille Sophie Giraud in France.
June 8, 2014 - ten breaths for tiny green shoots on a fig tree, and the resilience of life. I love fresh figs. A couple of years ago I planted a small fig tree. It got munched on by deer the first winter. This winter was colder and cold for a longer period than typical. When spring came, I realized the tree wasn't budding out, and also noticed that some larger, more established figs in the area had been winter killed. I cut the branches way back to see what would happen. A few weeks ago I saw a single tiny green bud on the side of the main trunk near the ground. A week later it was still there, but I couldn't see any progress. Today, however, it is clearly growing - about a half inch long now - and there are several additional buds right where the trunk meets the ground.
June 7, 2014 - ten breaths for shadows on the window shades. The shapes were soft and still, mostly shadow with shapes of light. After a few breaths, my mind saw them as scattered clouds floating in the sky.
June 6, 2014 - ten breaths for sweet cicely blooming in the woods. Sweet cicely is a native plant that has tiny white flowers arranged in a cluster at the end of narrow stalks that radiate out like sun rays from the end of a stem. Ten breaths is enough time to bring my attention from the patch of plants by the path down to a single cluster of blooms and finally to the tiny individual flowers.
June 4, 2014 - ten breaths for leaf shadows from the trees providing a cool lunch spot on a hot day.
June 3, 2014 - out of the house before 6 to go to a yoga class. The dawn was just breaking and the sky in the east had golden clouds drifting above rich gray ones. Ten breaths for this morning light and the subtle shifts I could observe from breath to breath. A couple of minutes later as I continued my walk, the light was completely different - the clouds bright white.
June 2, 2014 - it was a lovely, practically perfect, morning when I set out for work. Cool breeze, warm sun, low humidity, blue sky with a white cloud or two. Ten breaths for sunshine, bright and warm on my face.
June 1, 2014 - ten breaths for sunlight glowing through the tree leaves, and the shimmering reflection of light from the creek on the leaves and tree trunks, where the light looked like dancing tongues of fire.
May 31, 2014 - ten breaths for shadow patterns on the window shades in the morning - fluttering, dancing, dimming, becoming bright, shifting and swaying. Most are cast by the leaves of trees, but the shadows of flying insects make cameo appearances.
May 30, 2014 - ten breaths for a purring cat laying by my feet.
May 29, 2014, my Ten Breaths practice was for the song of a cardinal - or, as it turned out - two cardinals - one closer, and the other responding from farther away. After breath seven, the birds stopped singing for a while, so I finished the ten breaths in silence.
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