There is a quiet ritual to my mornings that I have come to treasure.
I stretch as I wake, draw back the curtains, and watch the green outside move gently in the sunlight. I make a cup of tea, then read, study, or sketch small, unstructured drawings in silence. Sometimes I simply hold my oboe for a while, tracing its shape and breathing in its calm, woody scent.
I follow what I feel like doing in the moment. If I want to stay in, I stay. If I feel like moving, I go out.
For a long time, I thought peace came from having certainty about the future.
Now I think it comes from something much smaller.
It comes from knowing that, wherever life takes me, I am able to hold and guide myself.