I am building a place for mindful practice in the backyard beside the pond. There are repairs to be done and the work feels hard. Last night I removed the old bridge and today so far I have tried to locate the leak in the stream. I think I may have found it. It's a spot where roots have worked there way between the seams of the last fix. I can't be sure that this is the place, but it looks promising.
And part way through the work I think, I don't like this, it's tedious. I'd rather be doing something else. It dawns on me as I continue to breath, stretch and exert myself into deeper acceptance of this moment with its accumulation of sediment, mud, rocks and toil. That the place to practice has already been laid carefully before me.