I have never understood people that say they "Hate the Morning". Never. I have always had a torrid love affair with them! Especially a morning after a great rain...which is where I found myself today at the crack of dawn.
There is just something about the light that comes on, knowing the rate we are barreling through the universe at, but the light...it comes on soft...dim at first...then slowly like a delicious kiss it is full blown in its desire for you to see it - to really see it.
The potentiality that daybreak holds has always humbled me. A single morning can have you changing the entire course of your life - I know because I've done it. After a good nights sleep, or a terrible broken dream slumber daybreak is there. An unsuspecting ally. If morning can be there, so can you. A day can pull you through life. And when you stumble upon a day of illness, of heart, body, or mind... well fear not because there will be a daybreak tomorrow and you can grab onto it at that point.
When we buried my grandfather I sat in my fathers car with my grandmother. They had seen a complete life with one another and all of the sudden she was alone and grief stricken. Her face was slack and scared in a way that spooked me. I was quiet... but watching. She put her little bony hand (same size as mine) with the slightly in-bent pinkys (same as mine) and looked at my with eyes colored a gentle sky and said "Aye tomorrow will come" And it did. And many after as well.
Morning for humans has become an angry race sometimes. Wake. Shower. Dress. Rip yourself from your family and daily toil of life (hello the way we are meant to live). Java up baby. Burn Gas. Punch in. Enjoy a right angle garishly lit day....
Not all bad though, I was chatting with a friend who said they like their job, feel good about the work they do - and I get that - moments of satisfaction and happiness - may we all be so lucky.
Mornings are holy, another day, a cosmic gift. Days off see me surrounded by water, visiting my places of worship - Lakes, Paths, Snow melts and the damp the wet earth to which I hold kinship. A damp wet earth, like me, is ready to receive natures riddled gifts of extravagance and hope. With a hot cup of tea and a nod to those who came before I go open into the day.
I love Morning.
