I call it my Meditation Window. I sit in the dark alone – Maria meditates outside most days, even in the coldest weather. She usually has Zip on her lap and blankets around her, and often, him inside one as well.

My photography has taught me that a good picture is what the photographer sees, not what the camera sees. It’s all about what I feel, not what my aperture is doing.

I especially love seeing the sun burst right into the window, then move quickly to the South.

This morning I was rewarded with two images I love – one was Maria coming back from letting the animals out into the pasture, the other the sun at its peak. It was too bright to stare at, but just there long enough for an Iphone picture.

I was meditating on my new companion, Bell’s Palsy. It was jarring to be rushed to the hospital, thinking I’d had a stroke, and relieved to learn I had Bell’s Palsy instead. No one at the hospital bothered to talk to me once they figured out I didn’t have a stroke. It’s not really something to celebrate, and I have to process that.

I was relieved, of course, but I went to see my doctor today. He explained what Bell’s Palsy is, told me it could last months, and said it could be unpleasant and uncomfortable.

Today I learned that it was true. I am still relieved; it is so much easier than a stroke would have been. But I want to take a day to ponder it. First thing, I’ve ordered an eye patch to keep my right eye from drying out and to block the sun when I’m taking photos. I have to eat my food differently since the right side of my face is not itself.

Nothing will stop the photos, and Bell’s Palsy certainly will not stop me.

I’ve got some learning and expectance to work on and some more thought. This is life, and I wish to live it while I can. It’s odd to say this, but I am very fortunate.   I can handle my Bell’s Palsy. I’ve learned a dozen times that attitude is the greatest healer there is.

And at dusk in the morning, I’ll be sitting with Bud next to me, waiting for my Meditation Sun to rise.