The dew clings to my shoes as I step through the lawn. A floral fragrance cuddles the subtle and warm, morning air. Just shy of sunrise, I’m wandering through the crisp grass, spying on the dandelions, urging the vincas and ferns to grow.
I make a habit of being awake for sunrise, even if I have to stay up all night. There is a silent cleanliness about the world that I desperately crave at this time of day. There is no vitriol, no poison, no dodging arrows. There is a sense of peace that is not forced, isn’t manufactured. There is no desire for discussion, no need to speak. There is only a sudden urge to stop all the noise, all the nonsense, and simply listen to silence.
I need this time of day. I truly do. For a good hour I hear only what nature wishes to play for me. I don’t hear my own ego, nor do I hear my own pain, but tune in to the chime of early birds chirping, and banana tree branches creaking in the gentle breeze. Old oaks groan and yawn to meet the dawn, acorns dropping with the tiniest of plops.
In the hours ahead the world will get louder as people wake, beat their chests, and look for a fight. Devices will be revved up so that they can scream the daily injustices. Media horns will blare stories of victimization. Mouths will wag with tales of tyranny. Peace will be found in pulverizing the enemy. Bliss will be born in blasting your opponent. You will be cheered for your heartlessness and applauded for your viciousness. And by dinner, you’re smiling greatly inside for having contributed your absolute best to society.
Strolling through the clover, I feel grounded, prepared to fight off that part of myself, prepared to keep these precious moments close to me the more angered I might get and want to write. I don’t want my work muddled with anything that might inspire the viper in me to strike.
I rely on this time of day so that my heart stays clean, so that should I write later in the day, my words aren’t a mad mess of anger and disdain. These first bright lights of the morning halo the rest of the day in a true beauty that I hope gets captured in both my knitting and my work.
Because I want people to read this blog and walk away feeling good.
While strolling through Honeychurch this morning, I found this silky little bear on my front steps, playing marbles in a plate of moss. He seemed perfectly content, so I let him be. However, if you’d like to adopt him, click here. He’s priced to sell because he REALLY needs a home.
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