The day is a vessel.  It opens slowly, it takes in as much light as it can, it presents me with a strange world of phenomena and, passing, it eventually gives up its light, it fades away, closes.  And then repeats, with variations.  And then the variations have variations, ad infinitum.  I give myself up to each day and try my best to live close to real things.  Lately I’ve been reflecting a great deal on the changes that my life has gone through.  The peculiar, nonsensical, turbulent paths that my life has followed, and in which, looking back, I can scarcely recognize myself.  I have been so many different people in my life.  Were they all really me?  And by the way who am I anyway?  The past year has been an extraordinary one for me.  It was a little over a year ago that I met H., a meeting which initiated a subtle, gentle, but profound change in my life.    She has, without trying to, but simply by being her natural loving self, enabled an unprecedented period of personal growth for me.  Now finally at the age of 59, I have never before felt my life so opened to unlimited possibilities, so free to find its natural shape, within the changing contours of each day.  Now, waking early and drinking coffee as I watch the sun rise outside of our kitchen windows, seeing the world gradually fill with light, I think: you have given me this.  And I accept it completely, and silently give it to you too, in return.