Early Morning Light
At the bookends of each day, light softens the sharp edges of things.
It holds the power to soothe our nervous systems.
Dawn light was always there for the taking,
and yet, for years I missed out, always prioritizing that extra much needed sleep.
Accessing and enjoying the other bookend of the day, dusk, was far easier and more familiar.
Well, I've discovered that waking up early by choice, can truly be its own magical thing — different from the disorienting light of bleary-eyed commutes, new parenthood, or coming off a night shift.
——————————————-
Late spring mornings arrive, with light peeking around the sides of the black-out blinds, an impressive cacophony of bird-song already underway.
While the house still sleeps, I quietly dress and tiptoe downstairs. Wincing, as I inevitably step on that damn creaky floorboard again, I pause, fearing the sudden appearance of a sleepy, squinting child to foil my plans.
(Thankfully, not this time.)
After so many years of chronic fatigue, I barely recognize this new self.
Intentionally waking up earlier than I have to?
WHO IS THIS STRANGER?
Lacing up my shoes, I feel a strong pull from outside to witness the day stretch, yawn, and open her eyes.
I walk, tugged along by the gorgeous, luminous point of light — as it plays hide and seek between branches, fence posts, and the sides of houses.
The light delicately traces the edges of things, reflecting off shiny surfaces, even the dusty hoods of cars and window panes.
I revel in the spacious and elated feeling of being outside,
while so many others are only just waking.
(It feels like being let in on a quiet secret.)
——————————————
I pause, noticing a chewed-up leaf on the ground.
Holding it up to the rising sun, I twirl it, the light sparkling through its lace-like holes.
It's a feast to awaken the senses.
The smell of freshly turned soil and flowers opening up, the symphony of bursting colour EVERYWHERE and that particular vibrant chartreuse, the epitome of spring.
This year with so much uncertainty and heaviness out in the world,
I've been practicing looking for certainty in the small things.
THIS I KNOW:
If I manage to resist the 'early morning molasses' and actually get up and out walking in this magical morning light, it makes a lasting difference to the rest of my day.
So, if it's been a while, or you're STILL unconvinced,
this is your invitation to give it a whirl.
I'd love to hear if you see what I see.
“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.”
If you enjoyed this musing,
join my mailing list for more…
Photo/Video Credits: Nicole Kagan
