Bill Watterson
And every morning, after my work in the garden is done, I clean up and take out a few minutes to arrange, either my harvest, a few flowers or sundry objects on my lone wooden chest, light a couple of agarbattis/incense sticks (no religious connection here), get myself a mug of hot lemon tea and go about capturing the arrangement in various composition.
This has become a ritual of sorts, since the past few years. Though it's something I do every single day, unless I am unwell and can't get out of bed, I haven't fallen victim to it's repetitious nature. For, during those few moments, I am lost to the world... I blissfully savour the present, like there will be no tomorrow. And each morning, this quaint ceremony of mine, gives me the opportunity to enjoy where I am, to reflect on my now...
And this morning, it was an utterly simple yet soothingly beautiful arrangement of my dried lemon grass wreath and a lone bunch of red ixora in a stark earthen bowl.
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