I find a particular sweetness in the early morning quiet. Vibrant stillness erupts from blackness before the world stirs. It’s a secret time with its own mystery.
This morning’s predawn sky has a peek hole to one luminous star that lights up its blanket of darkness. I can’t pull my eyes away from its light. Standing at the window in my pajamas, this pinhole in eternity draws me in and I hear whispers: “Sometimes it takes darkness to see light. Sometimes stormy waves rise. Sometimes a safe shore washes away to reveal a far greater creation than we could have imagined.”
Crossing into darker moments is part of our weave in life. We can grow through it if we let dark be dark and point us to light. Yet how often do we contract from the dark unknown? In what obvious and subtle ways do we assign darkness a sinister meaning? How do we take darkness personally and allow this to stop us from action or seeing our true source of light? And how can we uncover the courage to meet both dark and light honestly without hiding in either?
Dark. Light. Each moment is sacred.
As we come closer in to the moment we have, as we stop running from life and let its waves in, we drop into a natural rhythm that brings us more alive and, like night into day, our light grows brighter.
Gratefully, I turn to enter my day as a rabbit in the yard nibbles grass and looks toward the rising sun.
