Come Early Morning

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.




10 comments on “Come Early Morning”

  1. Your words never cease to completely pull me in. Love, love this! 🙂

  2. One of your best. Thanks for the beauty. All joy. HF

  3. 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.

  4. 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, 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!

  5. 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! 😉

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