As much as I dislike the cold that accompanies these lingering dark mornings, I savor the simplicity. As I sit in the quiet, I have only the glow from a white, rotund moon shining off to my right to illuminate my surroundings. As my thoughts drift, and time passes, the moon fades further away. It is during times like these that I find the most peace.
My world is a blank slate. I have no visual stimuli to distract me from what rests in my mind. Once the sun takes center stage, so does a plethora of distractions. But for now, things feel simple. I’m not one for clutter, not in my house nor in my mind.
Every morning I take time to pray. It is a sacred time for me. Time to stabilize myself, find my center and reconnect to who I am and what I know I need to be. I acknowledge the fact that the two are not always one. But I also acknowledge that the key to forming a more perfect union within myself is by first acknowledging that which separates me. I tend to see those things more clearly during these early morning hours.
The senses become more acute when not bombarded with outside interference. When it is dark, the ears sink deeper into a better state of hearing. And with that, as I talk to God, I often hear the soft voice which I long to hear during my busiest days; days when I can hear nothing more than the chattering voice within my mind.
The me I am with you, is the me I am with God. I tend not to veil myself from either. I’m quite convinced God appreciates my honesty. I hope you do as well. As I search, and stretch the boundaries of my preconceived limitations, I have to do so first by being honest. Sometimes I like who I see within myself, sometimes I do not. But I try to see them both with clarity.
It’s easy to assume that those who walk a spiritual path do so upon a golden road, one that embraces them and provides for easy steps. I don’t believe that to be true. I feel those who are reaching the furthest, feel the most struggle. With new knowledge comes new questions. Upon discovering new truths, we stretch to peel back another layer, reaching further and further as we go. And every time we do, we break away that which we were in able to become that which we are meant to be. Often, this is painful process. Or at least, with me it is.
Only those who have outgrown their shell feel the pain of breaking free. Its a recurrent process when continuing to grow. Only those who are not reaching, not expanding and not stretching their abilities and what they know escape this particular pain. Their pain is that of stagnation, suffocating under the weight of their own being, of spinning within the same cycle. I spent many years trapped in that perpetual, breathless state of being. Knowing what I know now, if I had to choose between the two, I would and do choose the pain associated with growth, as it allows me to breathe.
So in these early morning hours, I am always like that of a butterfly about to emerge. I notice once again that my cocoon no longer fits. I push against and release the part that no longer serves me. I try never to define myself by my cocoon. Instead I am an ever evolving creation; one that may never possess one clear definition. The tree topped vista before me is now coming into view. The stars are no longer sitting in contrasting darkness. The moon has escaped behind the trees. And the sun, like all skilled performers, is taking its time before walking out onto the stage. So with that, I will say: May this day be good to me. And may this day be good to you.