Slow Time

My most favorite time of the day is the time just before sunrise, a time which I have recently been waking up most mornings. A good term for it might be slow time, where the waking world moves more slowly, quietly. A time where,you can hear the whispering of birds, as they wake just before bursting forth into their familiar morning song. For me it's a time where hope feels the strongest. A time where all is well with the world. It's a space where I don't have to think about Trump or war or climate change, or any of the other things threatening our planet. This morning time for me is a gift freely given from nature, giving me permission to just rest for awhile. To unburden myself and be still, knowing that we're all gonna be alright. At least until I walk down the driveway and pick up the morning paper.

The Warmth of a Quilt

A friend who I haven't seen for awhile stopped by yesterday bearing a gift of a beautiful handmade quilt that his wife had made for LucyAnn. It struck both LucyAnn and I as such a thoughtful and kind gesture. Maybe it was the quilt or the fact that we were sitting outside listening to the chirping of the nearby wren, or feeling the warmth of the autumn sun, but in that moment I felt such a wave of gratitude for the simple gifts I receive everyday; the gifts of love, of friendship, of birds, trees and of sky; of life. A moment of transcendence, where,for a fleeting few seconds, I felt the connection to all of life around me.

So my friend and I sat on the porch awhile laughing and sharing stories of nuns, and of crazy teachers with classroom paddles; of painting bridges, and funny summer jobs; of painful childhood bullies and how we coped with them and with the teen and pre-teen years. It was such a sweet time basking in the comfort of long ago memories, all the while feeling the warmth of the quilt resting on my lap.

Reaching for the Sun

I had a strange half-sleep vision yesterday morning in which I saw myself surfing the top of a black wave, on the brink of falling and being swept into the dark water below. I remember feeling scared but also feeling strangely drawn to the darkness. It felt familiar.  It felt like a place of rest.

I looked up and found that above me was a beautiful blue sky, sun shining brightly, warming my face and my whole body. I turned my attention away from the wave and allowed myself to feel the sun's warmth, allowing all the sensations to permeate deep into my being. This was where I wanted to stay.

It's been three days since the presidential election and, like many of you, I'm still stunned about what happened. My mind asks how could it be? How did we let this happen? What happens now? I've been obsessively pondering these questions, allowing myself to stay in the darkness. No more! I'm reaching out for the sun now, to come back to the life of blue skies; to the life of basking in the love all around me; to the gifts of my family, of my special friends, and to the beauty of nature. And mostly I'm taking a break from the news which just seems to permeate our lives and keeps us in the funk. Enough!