childhood meditation

As a child I would frequently drape my body over the backside of a couch, hang upside down, look up and imagine the ceiling was the floor. The furniture-less, empty apartment was a blank canvas for me to bike and run around in my imagination. That was my way of carving some space just for me in a busy, crowded city. Now I know it was a type of meditation. Instead of closing my eyes, I stared at the ceiling and got lost in the whiteness.

brb, celebrating

Every moment is a reason for celebration. Therefore I'm too busy celebrating.