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On Thursdays, I make tea

My favorite tea cup.

It's the first in my "Days of the week" series.

On Thursdays, I make tea. Every other morning I rush off to the gym or get started with busy-work. On Thursdays, I make tea. I sit. I read. I exist for a few moments in time. While this may seem a simple task, it is not. My brain works at a frenetic pace. To sit? To be? That takes force. It is not my natural state. My Thursday morning ritual is often the thing I give up with my busy-ness. "I have to run," I say to myself. I have to serve others. I must go and DO.

I have a permanently scheduled massage every Thursday at 8 a.m. This is to be followed by tea and contemplation. Rest. Thursday is the last day before the chaos of the weekend begins. You know, those three days of the week where we all try to cram in as much life as possible before we return to the drudgery that we see ourselves a slave to. Years ago, I scheduled the massages in this permanent time slot with a promise to just take time out for "me". There are months in which I miss most Thursdays because I think something or someone else more important. And I pay for that choice with body aches and black mood swings and in the process I make everyone else pay for my decision as well.

Today. I. Just. Couldn't.

So I visited with my dear, kind friend who happens to be my massage therapist. You see, that permanent time slot is just not for my body and the massage, it is about healing my soul with an hour or two with someone I cherish. If the massage never happened the conversation would do just as much for the tension I carry in my shoulders and around my hips as the deep tissue . All too often, however, I let it slide. I think I'll do it later. Today, I enjoyed conversation and healing in the home of my beautiful friend. Then I came home. In the few miles between her house and mine my mind rapid-fires the list of "to-dos" and "must-dos". I hear that soft still voice in my heart saying, "take the time' and "be here, be now". It's easy for my loud mouth to shout, "but I must DO. I must serve". The soft still voice remains. "Be still. Just for a moment be still." I roll my eyes to the small voice that is my own. And then as I prepare to march in the house and BE IMPORTANT, I see my cat. My beloved Mystery who found me a few years ago and has taken care of me since. I had not petted her in a long while. I picked her up and sat down on the porch swing. She purred and kneaded while I rubbed her ears and scratched her chin. I found myself humming the song Amazing Grace

Mystery in her favorite planter. She is our potted kitty.

while swinging gently and taking in the newly harvested fields that make up my horizon. And then. I craved tea. The hot liquid infused with Irish black tea, a handsome dollop of honey and a splash of fresh milk. Served in my tall cup because today, I needed my tea. And. you know. it is Thursday. The moment I stood up and scraped the mounds of white fluffy cat hair from my, of course, navy blue shirt and went to the kitchen for my tea, these words came to my head. Bubbling from my well, my energy source, so quickly I could barely get a computer on before they would spill out of my soul and scatter across my hardwood floor. On Thursdays, I have tea. So today, just for a few peaceful moments I will sip my tea and pet my cat and exist in the stillness my body and soul requires to move through the world. I'll lick the drop of honey from the side of the cup and relish in its stickiness. It is like my life -- made of adventures and places near and away but collectively combining into something golden, natural and rich with sweetness. It is, after all, Thursday.

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