My bedroom faces East. So every morning the sun and I rise together. I always feel just the little bit superior because I am almost always up before the her. But the sun always gets me because she seems to cajole me out of my laziness while she throws pink and red across the open sky like some daily make-up application. I may wake earlier than the sun arrives, but the sun out does me every time.
Winter is a hard time for me because the cold keeps me inside; the older I get the more I seek warmth. My normal routine is up ended because it is too cold to sit in the meditation garden outside my bedroom and really spend time soaking in those early morning displays.
Tomorrow the light changes and with it so will I. Me totally ruled by the presence of lightness and darkness. The light wakes me up and stirs me to action while darkness settles me and quiets all the internal chatter that seems to rule my life.
I am grateful for the Spring and its arrival. I miss the mornings where the sun and I have coffee, her radiating, me writing. Me, busy scribbling down the contents of my heart and soul; her, busy sending fiery rays across the vast sky. The sun always having the better show...
There is no competition betwixt the sun and I. We both know who will win the morning title. The sun, the sun, forever the sun. But I do my part, I am up to welcome her in, cup of coffee in hand, waiting patiently for her arrival. Marveling at her morning canvas, art works that not only paint but light up the eastern sky. She dazzles me while I write and warms me while I sit in lotus, waiting for some word from the other side. She warms the morning and sends the birds into constant motion who visit me while I yoga through my advancing age.
When I am all done with writing, meditating and yogaing, she is there risen above the tree line and full of her natural resplendency. Each of us proud of our early feats: her waking the earth and its inhabitants, me downing my life giving elixir and tapping out my mind. Dedicating stillness and motion to the day by sitting in meditation and then moving into action through my yoga practice. Watching her show off as I dutifully begin another day.
It has begun to feel like a partnership, though I am clear that it is not. Her task is not really aligned with mine, me more a hanger on to her brilliant daily display.
And yet, I feel an intimacy with the rising sun that is personal and close. I feel the warmth and the majesty each morning as my darkness is revealed with light. And just like me some days she is diffused, muted, dulled by the cloudy cover. Darkened by the rain. But most days, most of the time, she is vibrant, throwing sunny sunshine carelessly about, urging me to waste no time and calling me to start my day.
So we rise, we gather up ourselves and go within, pulling up all the vibrancy that lives at our core, always with the intention to share it outwards, towards the others that cross our paths each new day.
She understands things that I will never know. Me trusting that she will always rise with me each day and her morning routine so much greater than mine. Still I pay homage each morning to her, her glowy warmth touching that cozy place inside my chest.
And, so we begin again today...each in her place, casting light about us in an effort to warm the earth that surrounds us.
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