Sometimes you just know...

It's Sunday - a beautiful, crystalline, cold Sunday. We woke up early today - for us, anyway, and it was easy to rise from our warm bed. The dogs and cats were all well and happy, eager to get outside of the hut (the cats) and the house (the dogs). The sun is high, a sure sign of Spring on its way, but still delicate with the thin quality that comes with Northern winters.

My Pilot made coffee, I updated my iPod quickly, brushed my teeth, tied up my hair, put on my running shoes, and hit the elliptical.

Listening to Brenda Daynes' http://www.cast-on.com podcast, all was right. As I strode, my shoulders were down, my back straight. Tension-free but still supported. I looked out the front window past our deck, and a small herd of deer trotted past. All was right. I glanced around our little livingroom, freshly dusted, vacuumed and fluffed after having My Pilot's brother and his wife for supper two evenings ago. Everything was tidy and clean, everything was humming along, not effortlessly, but well. All was right.

I finished my fifteen minutes in record time (ha!) and decided to continue, just to see what might happen. I didn't feel as though I'd pass out, or collapse under my own weight, legs screaming for relief at any cost. I kept going. All was right.

I kept on for more than twenty five minutes - a new record. Sure, I know many of you do this every day, and some do far more than this every day. I'm a realist. But your steady achievements by no means diminish my own sporadic and meager ones. I am in awe of you - and I am pleased with myself. All is right.

And sometimes, when everything is right, when the mechanics of a morning or a day just seem to hum along, well oiled and optimally functioning, you just know that a window has been opened. A portal to creativity and freedom and a fullness of the soul. Today is one of those days.

All is right.