Books leave traces, contrails of thought, like plumes of exhaust from a jet plane. One that remains from Michael Pollan’s A World Appears is that the best time to catch ourselves in a state of pure awareness is right after waking. It lasts only seconds, then the mind fills with worries, thoughts, to-dos.

But for those first few moments, we are awake, alive — but not yet us. We observe ourselves in a state of pure being.

Since reading Pollan’s book I try to catch myself in that state. This morning I felt that I did for an instant. Inspired, I walked down the hall into the spare room where I write.

In the sky a single star shone from between treetops that were just emerging from darkness, a point of light millions of miles away from my apple green desk, my petty worries, my little life.

I put pen to paper. The words flowed. When I looked up to find the star again, it had faded to blue.