Noticing

Cooking breakfast while overlooking the sea

This morning, I was cooking breakfast, doing my usual stretches to loosen tight shoulders and upper back, when I became aware of the exact moment I was in. On the stove was breakfast, oatmeal and a pair of chicken sausages. Just above it was the window showing a view of the ocean, a view that doesn’t get old, I must tell you. Tide is low and the surf is mellow, the sun lightly caressing the tops of the waves. Soft clouds blunt the intensity of light.

On the speakers played a gentle Celtic mix, one of the playlists my husband likes for morning. Another is upbeat classical. He would play Adam Ant and Abba if I allowed it, but not first thing in the morning.

Like many writers (computer workers, all of us), I struggle with tight neck and shoulders. Stretching helps a lot. I learned that to get my sun salutations in, I had to tie them to something else. There is just enough time to do three rounds as I wait for the oatmeal to thicken. There’s another stretch my acupuncturist in Colorado Springs showed me that restores order to the neck muscles, which completely fixes/prevents a weird pinch I sometimes get, a thing I thought I’d have to have surgery for eventually, and I do three rounds of that, too. If I still have time, I’ll so some tai chi warmups. A very American-style mix of Eastern practices, I know, but they work together and get the energy flowing again, so I will do what works. It’s not disrespectful—just functional.

As I stretched, the moment struck me as utterly perfect. Quiet, easy, beautiful, even a soundtrack I loved. My body actually is moving the way it should today—that might not always be true. In fact it almost certainly won’t always be true. I was practicing in my long kitchen, with its remarkable view, a room that disappointed me when I first moved here since I’d spent six months and pots of imagination and money making my perfect kitchen back in Colorado. That was my perfect kitchen and I loved it very much, but I’m sure others are enjoying it now, and this one came with the house on the beach I fell in love with. It has grown on me, especially in the mornings when the light is soft and the waves are gently rippling. In the winter, breakfast views can be dramatic and noisy, but right now, the wind wasn’t even blowing. I love standing at my stove looking at the sea. Sometimes pelicans fly by, often turkey vultures, always seagulls.

Quite practically, it also has acres of storage. Not nothing in a kitchen (see my earlier post on gadgets).

In that moment this morning, my husband was in the other room getting dressed. I am grateful for him, his stoic ways, his dry humor, and most of all his even-temperedness. It’s a miraculously wonderful quality in a person, one I didn’t appreciate when I was young and wild and sure drama was the way to make a good life.

In that drama free moment this morning, my heart recognized perfection. I stayed with it.

And now, another perfect moment. At my desk, writing, with an air purifier running to keep the paint particulates out of my lungs. (Mind you, I’m not actually sure they’re a problem, but it can’t hurt and I like the white noise of it.) The dogs are asleep nearby on the “vintage” (very well used) rug I brought back from Morocco. I have hours free to dive into on the work-in-progress, which is about to tip me into the land where I am good for nothing but that.

That’s a post for another day. Maybe next time. Another perfect moment, which is this one, and now this one. We just have to notice.

Tell me about a perfect moment you have experienced recently.