  
 
I've been getting very quiet and reserved as of late. The time I spend alone is spent doing more and more quiet things. I've become particularly enamored with rising before six so that I have enough time for, say, a half hour to forty five minutes in a candle lit bath, a bit of yoga, and enough time to enjoy a very large latte, all before work. And each morning I spend a few minutes just sitting there in my robe, staring into my latte, watching the patterns that emerge between the creamy mocha color of the milk and the rich chocolate brown of the coffee. It's really quite beautiful. And more and more frequently each day there exists an unexpected internal dialogue: "Are you happy?" And when my mind asks the question, always out of nowhere, it almost invariably stops me short - despite the fact that this is now occurring perhaps a half dozen times per day. Most of the time I take a satisfyingly deep breath and reply, "Yes, actually. I am." Sure, I get those inevitable moments of lonely, of sad, but they pass, and on the whole things are wonderful. I'm a very lucky person in so many ways, and I must never lose sight of it, and I must appreciate it fully while I have it, because the world's a very dynamic place, and situations shift like mist.
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