Yesterday morning, I was loitering at home, and actually sat down in the sitting room. Barry White was burbling away on the radio. The sun had just come over the hill behind us and was tipping bright yellow light into the room, making fluttering movements on the floor. The dog was lying in the sun on our bed through the door. Dave was chomping away at his trough of muesli.
This is OK. A wash of peace and contentment, rare at this time washed over me. It was a Goudgian*moment of the spiritual tripping into the daily. I sat and surfed in it for a while until time moved on. Rare and wonderful.
*Elizabeth Goudge is my favourite author and her words can fill me with this sense of a sudden bursting in of the other side, and it can happen around me, or even in a picture.