When it was like a mirror, it was in the days of my youth, and a seamless parallel world existed in complete and utter calm.

Where the ying of reality met its yang of opposition, you could stand on your head, and not knowing which was which (except for the sand you’d get in your hair).

All was perfectly the same… and yet, they were at odds.

I looked west, searching for the Far East, and an occasional bird’s song enraptured the experience like a moist rice paper… perfectly delicious.

Except for the bird songs, the silence was almost impenetrable. An occasional fish’s grasping of insects on the surface of the water also broke the silence… A quick little splash, and the concentric, outward flowing rings that traveled to their final destination were mesmerizing.

The scent of pine filled the air, sap ever so slowing dripping down from summer’s new green cones…

The sun coming from behind the tree line, once it elevated in the eastern sky to finally present its rays of light, usually brought with it a slight wind to break the early morning meditation of that very still world…

And so the day began…

And then the lake would take on a new persona, as time slipped by.

I, too, would water ski, like the person in this image that I took last July, like I was on a plate of crystal glass… Pulled by my childhood friend John Labrecque and his small boat, if it was a lucky day for me.

Those mornings are etched into my brain, and the reflection of this past is how I begin my yoga each morning, before I face the world of wine for another day, and all the things on my “to do” list.

— My Reflections of Sabattus Lake in Wales, Maine

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