chapter  7
8 Pages

What am I doing? SuS aN Bla CkMoR E

I am sitting outside my hut.1 It’s summer, warm enough to put my mat and stool on the flagstones and sit outside, in front of the flower bed. A blackbird sings on the garage roof; another answers from behind somewhere. There are many birds singing, now I come to notice them, and even a seagull shrieking far above. Bristol isn’t far from the sea and the gulls . . . no, let it go. The buzzing from countless bees and flies, messing about in the flowers, maps out a sonic space around me. The sun feels warm on my arms. I am sitting still: the mind is calming down. I wonder what I’m doing here. Have I chosen to be in this spot, sitting like this, of my own free will? How much of this am I doing, and how much is just happening? When I’m ready I will look into what it means to act.2