Standing on my street at night, my head on her shoulder our hands entwined, reflected light from the highway giving off a faint glow, the wind blowing in the right direction so that I can smell the salt from the Atlantic.
I like walking in a light mist, on one of those nights where you can see the moon on the horizon despite clouds directly above.
Sitting in a car, during a heavy wet snowfall, in the middle of an abandoned parking lot in one of the corporate parks, window half-down, enjoying a cigar, just listening to the sound of the wind and snow.
Rainy summer nights.
A soft, steady rain, curled up in the porch swing or relaxed bonelessly in bed, with the windows open and a pool of golden light enough to read by. Listening to the bass notes of the river boat whistles and the patter of raindrops. Fresh rainwater and growing stuff smells.
Pure peace.
Veb
Long walks on spring mornings, temperature just on the chill side of comfortable, birds finding their lungs again. The air misty, the dusky morning sunlight scattering through it in a haze, turning the air liquid gold.
Comfortable half-lotus, sitting straight and relaxed and stable, eyes partly open. Just breathing and feeling the breath, thoughts arising clamoring for attention then falling till those brief shining moments when the waters of the mind are still, the silence between the noise.
floating in the warm waters off the north shore of Oahu at night watching the a meteor shower
it’s the closet thing I’ve ever found to being back in the womb
This morning - rain on my window, cars going sssssssss on the drenched streets. Me in bed with the cat asleep at my feet. My girlfriend on the phone telling me she’ll be home soon. Perfect.
Laying in bed at night, next to my husband, listening to his breathing…
Robin
Allowing yourself a stolen nap, afternoon sunlight peeking through the blinds, when you know you should be doing laundry/running errands/cleaning house.
Pure bliss for 2 1/2 hours the other day.
This morning, right before sunrise, I was sitting in the rocking chair with my baby son. A bird landed on the windowsill nearby and began to sing. Baby’s eyes widened and he smiled with innocent delight.
At 0-dark thirty in the morning, up in the cockpit, where the drone of the engines is loud but not uncomfortably so, with the entire plane dark, still, and quiet of any other human presence except the pilot next to you, and the only lights are the soft glow of the instruments. Outside, at almost thirty thousand feet, the canopy of stars above you and virtually surrounding you down to the horizon is breathtaking, with a shooting star sending a jolt of excitement through you every now and then, while right under your feet there slides the top of a layer of clouds, so it seems the plane and stars are still and some grand entity is pulling a floor of cotton beneath you. Peace, joy, contentment, with a smattering of exhilaration. There’s nothing else like it in the world.