I love the in between-ess of this month. Anticipating Fall, the Holidays and a slowing down of life. A time for seeds to hug the soil. Cooler mornings and nights, more time spent by the fire, outside. Apples, grapes, leaves turning, summer flowers still blooming...in richer, warmer tones. Faithful birds, staying for a while longer before flying to warmer lands. Rain, gentle winds, golden yellows and burning oranges of sunsets.

September gives me another chance.

To embrace the gentle unhurriedness of change. A deliberate celebration of the middle.

To fall into Fall.

To see depth and warmth in the in between.

Being cocooned in a warm, gentle glow of light that illuminates a path...

The gentle, rhythmic breathing of a new born snuggled on a mother's chest

The silence of walking in snow that has not been trodden on

Clouds before sunrise lighting up in a glow of pale yellow that beckons us to raise our arms up towards the light receiving all that the day ahead has in store ...

Blankets and candlelight and the warm embrace of a loved one...

Little feet and big hands piled into mounds of blankets on Sunday mornings...a child half awake, their father with wrinkles on his face, disheveled hair, evidence of broken but joyous dreams the night before.. Their mother with the sweet clutter of pans, searching for sweet maple syrup and almond milk for Sunday pancakes...

Tea with honey and lemon at the crack of light before the house wakes

Early morning walks when it feels like the universe just dropped a batch of new air to be taken in...by you

Mindfully filling lungs with a long inhale and gently exhaling....

The breath of meditation

Walking along the river with mist and dew...

Surrender, Faith, Positive expectation. Goodness, Hope and unconditional Love. Compassion and Empathy. Mercy and Kindness. An open, broken and receiving heart. Fullness, emptiness and gratitude.

The softness of life, God and Spirit.

Scattered moments...

Of Grace.

When I bake, time feels softer, slower, loving, kinder. It waits for me. Allowing me the leisure to measure ingredients, yet in the end tweaking to my senses. A dash here, a pinch there. Reading and reading again, a recipe, the story of the creation waiting to be formed. One of the few places, I get to own the end of a story. The slow gentle glow of the oven, culminating in a sustained, deep heat. Purposefully creating chaos, a mess, knowing the sweetness that would be devoured in the end. Lost in the attention. The feel of sticky dough. Shaping, molding, kneading, inhaling, tasting. Fingertips dancing, hands speaking. The anticipation of goodness. The excitement and sometimes exhilaration. Patience in its sweetness and art, slowing me down. A gentle, quiet lesson in trusting and hoping. Letting go of control, trusting... A new found love for uncertainty, made sweeter by the fullness and deep content within, when a creation comes together. The courage and persitence to try again when it does not. The joy. Oh, the joy when bellies are full and lips sing of laughter when the creation is tasted, touched, shared, devoured...

The freedom of it all.

This is my meditation...