I am thinking about inspiration, how it can ensue from the smallest, most unexpected things. I remember one night when I was visiting my cousin in Columbia, Maryland. Everyone but the two of us had already turned in, and I was alone in the living room, browsing through a magazine as my cousin cleaned up the kitchen. I looked across at one point and was struck by the sight of her wiping down the counters, cleaning and shining everything, her face meditative, filled with devotion to her task. The house was quiet and mostly dark and she had no idea she was being observed. She was patient and thorough, fully engaged, taking such loving pride in what she was doing that she literally had a light around her. I've never forgotten it, and now, every morning when I clean my kitchen, I remember her in that moment, and I make the work a moving meditation, a service of love.
It helps a little.