There’s a sweet spot that exists every morning – when the light returns and dreams taper into images the eye can gather into focus. There is a right time to arise. I do not wake up to alarms, and even though I gifted my husband with a Zen clock that gently chimes at a selected hour, I can sense even his arm reaching, before daybreak, stifling the small click that precedes the tone.
Arising in darkness conjures years spent on the road in sales – cruising behind hopped up tractor trailer drivers on icy highways headed too far north – recalls chunky salted gravel and cracked windshields, gold jewelry and high heels; competitive striving and the stale breath of poverty blowing straight down the back of my youthful neck. If I were to whitewash memories a bit, I’d cast back to a childhood spent in anticipation of oceans and lakes, deserts and mountains – places out of the city where my young soul gulped the rarified air of freedom. But it meant arising at four, and even then it seemed a sacrilege to shuffle about before the sun decided to broadcast another day.
Before society inures us to bustle – in a time preceding the noise of family squabbles, electronics and the overall din of civilization – beats a heart yearning for serenity. The head conditions itself to busyness while the soul basks in silence. The further I have returned to that innate longing, the stronger my penchant for solace in open oceans and in quiet forest glades.
It is enough when, startled, a murder of crows ascends to the sky – gathering like a torrid thundercloud seeking to release itself once again upon a verdant land. The beating of a hundred pairs of shiny black wings telegraphs a bolt of voltage clear down to my toes. Alarm clock be damned, if I need to rise, I have only to remember that flock of birds or the thrill of a giant manta gliding right toward me out of the blue. Seeded long enough in memory, these and a million other startling images prove adequate to awaken me from the deepest slumber.
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Your words never cease to completely pull me in. Love, love this! 🙂
Thanks so much, Amelia! Glad you like my words 😉
One of your best. Thanks for the beauty. All joy. HF
And all joy to you, HF! Love that 😉
Thanks for the compliment; glad you liked the post.
love the prose as usual and the picture of the “mendelbot esque” tree sublime Tks jim
Aloha Jimmy! Interesting, the Mandelbrot tree idea – wouldn’t have thought of it quite that way. You have a unique perspective which I like! Thanks for your comment.
Bela,
I need to once again acknowledge that you are one of the very few I know who can create imagery with words that more than match up to the lovely pictures that you include.
When you say, “Seeded long enough in memory, these and a million other startling images prove adequate to awaken me from the deepest slumber.”, you echo my innermost feelings. I remain indeed blessed…
Shakti
Shakti, as usual I am honored with your praise. Thank you so much! I have always been visual – inner vision is a gift I was born with – so to describe the world as I see it quite naturally gives rise to expressive “image-ining.” And being a lifelong lover of language, I try and do these images justice through selecting words that best express them. So happy you appreciate my efforts, which are truly a pleasure for me!
My one personal goal right now is to wake just a bit earlier to do prayer, meditation, just sitting with myself . . . but to give myself fifteen minutes before I start the rush of the day. I love mornings, relish in their beauty and promise, but by nature I’m not an early riser. I liked what you said about your husbands zen clock . . . I’m actually counting on my cat Jinxy who wakes every morning at 4:30 . . . now if I can just resist the temptation to go back to bed, I’d have a beautiful hour before my usual waking time on week days. I keep seeing “signs” I need this time, including a conversation I had this morning with a busy woman who told me that by doing this all the clutter in your life begins to quiet. So, I’ll take this post as another sign!
Alethea, sounds like a marvelous idea! And your Jinxy reminds me of a mother cardinal who is still tap-tap-tapping on windows and skylights all through our rather large house – she begins around 5:30 a.m. – and so, like it or not, I’m up! 😉