"In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary."

Just as I'm falling asleep, I have the most brilliant insights, but because I'm too comfortable and drowsy to get out of bed to write them down, I usually forget them. I vow each time this happens to keep pen and paper by my bed for the next time I wax philosophic, but I never do. Alas, my insights, my pearls of wisdom, are then lost forever. Last night, though, I remember thinking life is amazing, no revelation, just a statement of fact. Why it popped into my head I have no idea. The day was a usual summer Wednesday. In the morning, I filled bird feeders, made my bed, did a few dishes and polished some furniture, all mundane tasks. I wrote Coffee. I had dinner with friends then a night at the theater, the same as every Wednesday. The play was an updated Moliere. It was clever and funny. The Red Sox won. David Ortiz hit a three run homer; all is right with the world. Nothing extraordinary happened yesterday.

Today I got to thinking about mundane tasks. I feed the birds and these lovely creatures thank me with their music. I sit and watch, and they delight my eyes with their brilliantly colored orange, gold or red feathers. Washing dishes gives me a chance to take a little time, to relax. I sometimes think wonderful thoughts and other times I just look out the window and think nothing at all. I make my bed the same way every day. I start on one side, tighten the sheet then move to the other side and do the same. I then do the spread, first one side then the other. This singular task done the same way every day connects my days, gives them continuity, a framework from which the rest of the day builds. I shower outside when I can. The steam rises from the shower and spreads into the backyard. It's beautiful in its own way. Some late nights I go outside, sit, close my eyes and let the night enfold me. The feeling is entrancing.

On second thought, there is nothing mundane about my day.