Woke up at 4, just as the birds began to sing.
Cleaned teeth at the open window, fresh air.
Sat on my little stool.
Watched the breath.
Watched how I controlled the breath.
Let that go.
Stillness soon came.
Travelled around the body, sensation, sensation.
Travelled some more until the organism had its own intelligence.
And it let loose.
No method or technique remained.
Awareness and action.
An hour was soon over.
Then Structural Integrity mobility drills and exercises.
Balancing out the muscle groups.
That took over an hour.
Back to bed for an hour and a half.
The best dreams.
The ones that undo and liberate as they unfold.
I was running, slow mo.
Only very lightly touching the ground.
In doing so, flying higher with each bound, I was no longer able to see.
Bounced into some ropes and rebounded back.
But all was well in my slow motion.
And on landing securely I could see again.
Back up; sun salutations.
Fried rye bread breakfast, with St Dalfour spread.
To work after saying goodbye to my partner and best friend after a long weekend.
The lowdown on the recent trustee meetings.
Excitement in the air for the opening of the school pavilions.
Email catchup. Postcards to family from our camping weekend.
Finding photos for a trustee to gift to a donor:
Krishnamurti smiling in the grass.
Fed the fish on a sunny break, chatting with a friend.
Lunch: risotto rice of two varieties, asparagus, diced roast spuds.
After lunch a short nap.
Then the opening ceremony.
Met on the south lawn, mingling and photographing.
Here’s the project manager looking at stages of the build:
The oak beams still very visible in the almost-finished buildings.
Walked over en masse to the site.
Songs, speeches, ribbon cut, naming ceremony, high teas, tree planting, chats.
Took many photos for Friends of Brockwood.
All the pavilions are named after trees at Brockwood.
Afterwards, supper of potatoes and rye bread.
French Open, the last last set of the Federer match against a plucky local.
Cut my own hair with clippers.
Aim to sleep by 10.