New Rite

I Find Myself At Every Day:

It's three or so minutes from the start-after-lunch buzzer. I've just neared the southern entrance (low-man-on-the-totem-pole door, e.g.). I set any accouterments in hand down.

I face South. My physical eyes close...

SOL beams warm and strong.
I breathe.
i feel the breath travel columnar through the solar plexus and the soles of the feets and into the Earth, and...

I am Grounded-- solid. And Soaring sun-ward, recharging like a butterfly on a rock by the water there near the oak's dripline...

I stand. I Breathe. I soak...

I hear the first warning buzzer go off-- two minutes to be at your workstation.

The last three days, my rush out of the Sol-Trance and into the shadows of shopverk have prolonged...

in favor of Sol-basking.

'Cause... y'gotta have priorities, n'est-ce pas?

Slainte!

Cygnus