I lie back on the soft ground. The cool grass welcomes me, and I feel the soft warmth radiating from the earth below. Slowly, gingerly, I lay my head back and let the soil support its weight. As I lay there, I feel the tension draining from my neck and shoulders as I trust the earth with the task of supporting me. The blue tightness that has gripped my heart and breath fades away with my breath, and the gentle heat of the sun replaces it with a welcome lively yellow.

In the distance, I hear a playful breeze juggling leaves in a tree. One last sigh of contentment escapes me as I relax completely.

Here, now, there is nothing to do, nothing to be done. It is not even important if I close my eyes or keep them open - there are no consequences to any choices which are available to me. I am free to do as I wish.

I lay, enjoying and savoring each slow, careless breath causing my chest and stomach to rise and fall. I can feel and savor the throb that is my heart beating within my chest, felt throughout my entire body.

After an eternity of this peace, I make a choice. I set my mind the task of capturing and savoring this sensation - this thought pattern, this physical feeling, this spiritual calm - so that later, when I am not able to come to this place, I can remember it is still here. As I rush about with my worries and concerns, there is a part of me which knows this place still exists, still yearns to welcome me back, and allow me to return to this bliss.

There is no rush. Once I've captured the moment, I take my time and enhance it. Crafting the memory as carefully as a painter. Here is the tickle of the green grass against my ear. Here is the caress of the breeze against my bare feet. Here is the joyeous burst of birdsong in the distance. Here is my heart, warmed by the sun. Here is the secret smile of contentment which comes from knowing that I am capable of relaxing totally when in a place of peace. I have that skill.

I rest. And I enjoy. For as long as I want. And that's a good thing.