When I allow myself to rest into what is, sweetness emerges. Sweetness in the peace and serenity, a mellow taste of life. Savouring this life gifted to me, oh, what more is there to ask for? There is always room for more, and what I have is enough. I possess neither lack nor feelings of lack. This moment, finely sweet…exquisite, intricate—a drop of warm honey rolling on my tongue, spreading the sweetness of the labor of worker bees, of the honeysuckle blossoms bursting in spring, of the nourishing rays and loving rain. Richness in the subtleties of a moment. An abundant feast. I feast on my life, I feast on me, oh, every moment can be this sweet. Ecstasy.
—what arose from meditation this morning.