In the morning, I can hear the violin.

The weather is nice now, and all the house windows are open. So, I can hear someone playing the violin. The music is coming from across the golf course in my back yard.

It lasts for a little while, maybe 20 minutes tops. Drifting up and down the sixteenth fairway, serenading.

I could ignore it. I could allow myself not to hear any of nature’s sounds: the bird song, the odd squawk of the pheasants that live in the ravine by the side of the road, the car traffic … the plunk that a golf club makes when it hits a ball, the soft talking of the golfers … and the violin.

But the music compels me, lets me remember what all the great spiritual teachers tell us: live in the moment. So I pause, and listen, and feel grateful.

Years ago, during a cooking class in Italy, the full moon rose over the olive trees and grape vines of the villa where we were learning to make arista al chianti – pork loin with wine sauce. In the middle of our preparations, we walked right outside to greet her, taking the moment to savor la bella luna. It was then that I realized what cooking dinner in Tuscany was all about.

What living in the moment was all about. And it feels wonderful.

Right now, a soft rain is falling, tapping our gravel patio outside the window. I allow  myself to hear it – and enjoy it – for the moment.

Photo Credit: eflon