Kinda feel like getting out of my brain today, and into my heart. Do you ever feel that? Did some yoga this morning, and my hips are all loose and mushy. It feels so damn good.

It’s raining where I live (and possibly where you live too–so much rain lately!), and my garden has sprouted into this impossible green grove. I have a tree back there that blooms white flowers at the beginning of every season before shedding them in a flurry that covers my grass with a different kind of snow. I swear that baby bloomed overnight–nothing but green leaves yesterday, and today totally covered in white fluffy blossoms. That’s it in the accompanying pic, which I took while standing barefoot on my deck in the streaming rain. Came inside and left wet footprints all over my kitchen floor. That felt so damn good too.

I’ve discovered, as I sway and shimmy through this dance of life, that joy lives perfectly encapsulated within these perfectly mundane moments. The tap of rain against my windows. The incredible hue of twilight that seeps through my bedroom every eve. When we moved in, I stood with paint swatches against the gloaming sky for a week straight, trying to match its colour. It’s impossible, of course, but I came close and now, when twilight unwinds across the sky, my walls reflect it back and hold me in a cocoon of crepuscular light.

Every single day lavishes me with endless opportunities for awe. The smell of coffee alone… I started roasting my own beans a few months back. You can use a roaster or a pan, but I put them on a cookie sheet in the oven. The green beans smell kind of grassy. Once you roast them, though; oh! Every varietal has a different aroma. Chocolate and vanilla and lemon and cinnamon and caramel and toasted nuts. After they’re roasted, I put them in a bowl and bring them outside, where I stand and blow off the chaff–which is like those little husks from popcorn that get caught in your throat. It blows all around me like tiny tufts of floating pollen. And then I bring them back inside, and dig my hands into the still-hot beans, and let them tumble through my fingers to release their fragrance. It brings me deep joy every single time.

People talk about how meditation can help keep you present and centred, and I know from experience that that’s true. But I’ve also found that it’s possible to make every moment a meditation, if I just pay attention to what’s right here now. My fingers tapping on the keyboard. My spine erect. The hum of my computer. Crumpled receipts lying across my floor. My shoes there in the corner, that I’ve neglected to put away for days. The peace of the morning. A perfect moment in the perfectly mundane. I wish for you the wonder of living a life in awe. May you find joy, today and always.