We get on up onto the back of a new day with the expectation energy of continuity. This new day will be a continuation of yesterday and the previous days. It is not difficult to understand how this deadening of the specificity occurs.

I step out of the same bed, on the same side, with the same leg and stand exactly as I have done countless days before. But it is a lie the numbed down mind tells me.

There is a taste, a smell, a texture, an over riding theme to each day to each passing hour that distinguishes it from all others. The weather alone is the most predominant marker. As the sky opens it may bring in sun or fist clamp down again on grayness. The wind may tear limbs off of the tree or refuse to give relief to over ranging heat.

But as we move in closer there are so many variables that it is like looking minutely at a woven piece of fabric. The day is an interaction. I am in a mood, or in a frame of mind. Associations with neighbours, friends, family may shift me.
Viewing in an unmindful manner some political news that distresses me may change my internal barometer in a shattering second.

And yet we are asked, “How is your day?” Others inquire, “How is your day going?”

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“How was yesterday?,” I might ask myself.

It was a flowing intersection of various energies, expectations, weather systems and it was mostly sunny.

Today held moments of rain. And finally, that is all we get. We get moments. An event shows up like the neighbours’ cat at my back door rubs on the threshold and then disappears again.

This now not judged holds a peaceful sanctuary. It is free of expectation which means it is free of disappointment. I do not own it. It does not own me.

I remember that the birds sang and I heard the rain’s waterfall through the trees. I could not have been better, done more, been more perfect or been more flawed. I just lived what ever this day was.

And I don’t need to find out its Latin name.