I have great internal Board of Directors meetings.
I sing and chant and sometimes even rant.
I fill my heart and empty my mind.
I follow my mind and empty my heart.
Dance with my spirit and inhabit my body.
Sometimes I am guided. Most often, I dance alone.
This morning the sunrise was a sight to behold. Clouds to the west kissed illuminated hills and homes. I could not sequester myself in my meditation room and miss the morning.
Jackhammers abused concrete somewhere in the valley below. A steady stream of cars snaked its way up Wolfe Grade and silver jets left vapor trails between the clouds…so many people going somewhere.
Is this how we honor the dawn?
Is this how we honor all beginnings?
I don’t know. I only wonder.
Not wanting to miss the changing colors and shapes of the clouds; not wanting to miss the flocks of crows (and one tiny hummingbird) that traverse the skyscape, I began to sing, as I always do to begin meditation.
At first I was aware of my voice and the wending of the melody. Soon enough, I was absorbed by the pastel hues, absorbed by whatever it is that absorbs me, of which I am a part, to which I belong, and the song emerged as a completely self-organized melody; my morning song; this morning song.
Or is it mourning song, like the dove in the pine outside my window? For the tears come as my heart cracks open and I don’t really know what is sad or what is too much to hold.
Perhaps it is gratitude.
Perhaps it is Beauty.
Surely it is Love.
And, it doesn’t need a name.
When I retreat to my mediation room each morning, supposedly to ground myself so as to be more present during the day, to what have I become un-present? Where have I gone and how much of the day already missed?
This “being present to”… this offering of lullaby to the dawn and all the weary travelers, this is what grounds me now.
What is your morning practice?
copyright(c) October 2010, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved