What a mystifying phenomena the present moment is.  The microsecond it is acknowledged it is past and gone.  A new instant present has pushed it out of the way–and again and again and again.  Maybe the mystery and puzzlement is that we try to capture that moment.  Photographs pretend to do it,  but they are different with each viewing too.

This morning seems to be like fruit frozen in ice–still.  Chilly.  Dog bark in the distance.  Slate white sky.  Open time.  No needs yet.  Calm before busy.

Practicing a sense of wonder feels empty.  I am a bowl clean and open, not anxious to be filled.  Not worried about the fruit that was here yesterday.  Not concerned about the residue that will need washing tomorrow.  An open, empty, clear, beautiful bowl.