Still sitting regularly, just a little behind on writing.
Sat out at night. Songs of spring peepers and another frog whose call I don't know yet drifted from a distance. The first cricket I've heard this year called and called from our backyard.
Again, just wanted to stay outside all night. I seem to be temporarily free of the struggle to be present and content during my sits, after two or three weeks of gritting my teeth.
A lark constellation hangs in the night sky, beating its wings as it lifts off the ground. Everything I love, this whole earth, is under the lark.
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